


Barren

by Romansleftshoulderpad



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Aro!Remy, Background Character Death, Multi, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, aroace!Emile Picani, deceit sanders is in one chapter vaguely, queer platonic Remile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 31,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22151938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romansleftshoulderpad/pseuds/Romansleftshoulderpad
Summary: "From the moment you are born, you are tied to your fate. By age three, the mark starts to make itself known, darkening enough of your wrist to spell out a name in thick and messy lines. During puberty, it was almost black and neat enough to have been written by a master calligrapher. Some call it the 'red strings of fate', some call it a tattoo, but Virgil called it bullshit. Unfortunately, bullshit or otherwise was not for Virgil to decide."In a world where nearly everyone is born with their soulmate's name written on their wrist, not having a mark is a crime punishable by death. Virgil is a senior in high school and he's not sure how much longer he can survive.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil/Creativity | Roman/Logic | Logan/Morality | Patton, Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders
Comments: 43
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

From the moment you are born, you are tied to your fate. By age three, the mark starts to make itself known, darkening enough of your wrist to spell out a name in thick and messy lines. During puberty, it was almost black and neat enough to have been written by a master calligrapher. Some call it the “red strings of fate”, some call it a tattoo, but Virgil called it bullshit. Unfortunately, bullshit or otherwise was not for Virgil to decide.

Everyone had a mark. Almost everyone. There were few who didn’t. They were monsters. Cruel, heartless, and absolutely incapable of any kind of love- romantic or otherwise. Monsters devoid of human emotion. They had to be stopped. They had to be crushed. They had to be killed.

253 days until graduation. Virgil could survive this. He always had and he always will. His survival could be thanked mostly to his large hoodie which was typically down to his hands. He took a deep breath. He’d be okay. He was always okay.

214 days until graduation. There was a pit in Virgil’s stomach as a freshman girl got carried off by security guards. The entire school watched apathetically. About a hundred of them recording the entire event on their phones. The girl was kicking and screaming, tears streaming down her face. She knew what her fate was. The entire school knew what her fate was. Only Virgil seemed to care.

He was quiet the rest of the day. Her face was seared into his brain. “Virge, I’ve never seen you this silent before,” commented the only company he had at lunch. The boy had a large birthmark that took up half his face. Combined with Virgil’s absolute lack of a social life due to fear and hiding, the two were an unstoppable duo of social outcasts. Yet, at the end of the day, he still had a name on his wrist. He wasn’t Barren.

“She’s only fourteen,” Virgil said. “She’s just a kid and they’re going to kill her.”

“If they haven’t already.”

Virgil wanted to scream and yell. His heart was burning with anger at the apathetic student body who had forgotten about her, mere hours later. “You aren’t helping.”

“Maybe I’m not, but they are.”

“You don’t believe that,” he said, a hint of disgust on his voice. He was bad at hiding his emotions.

“I believe that monsters should be hunted, Virgil.”

Virgil felt himself about to break down. He needed to be alone. He needed to calm down. He took his bag over his shoulder and stormed off.

“Where are you going?!”

“None of your business, asshole!”

210 days until graduation. Sunday morning. Virgil’s eyes were glued to the television. “Honey, are you sure you don’t want to watch something else?” his mother asked, gently resting a hand on his shoulder. Sunday morning. The public execution.

“I saw her, Mom,” Virgil said quietly. She was on the tv screen, eyes as red as her face was, and wrecked with emotion. She was a complete contrast to the live crowd around her. “I saw them take her away. She’s a freshman. Did you know that? I don’t think the people out there know that,” he said, his voice was monotone but emotion rest heavily in his chest. “She’s in the chorus. She was supposed to be a soloist in the winter concert.”

“Did you know her?”

“Not personally, no,” Virgil admitted. “I asked a few teachers about her. Lied and said I was writing for speech and debate. That is until the chorus teacher threatened to send me to the dean for insubordination and asking too many questions.”

The screen went black as his mother took the remote. “Sweetie, I don’t think that watching that is good for you.” Virgil didn’t respond. “Listen, I know you can take care of yourself, but I can always tattoo you,” she said. “Pick a name you like and we’ll put it in your wrist. You’ll be safer that way.”

“High school will be over soon, Mom,” Virgil said. “I can figure out what to do afterward.”

“Okay, honey, but if you change your mind…,” she trailed off, planting a kiss on her son’s head and leaving him alone. She knew very well that the treatment of the Barren was undeserved and unfair. Her own sister had been Barren and ripped from her at a young age. Realizing that Virgil was Barren was heartbreaking, not because her son would be cruel or heartless, but because she couldn’t handle the heartbreak of losing her only child.

“I know, Mom,” Virgil said, pulling his sleeve over his arm, “I know.”

209 days until graduation. Everything was normal. It was a typical day in a typical fucked up world. No one cared. The slight talk of the execution was over before lunch. Virgil couldn’t bring himself to eat.

173 days until graduation. The hallways were somewhat tense. People had gotten bored nationwide. No Barrens had been found. No Barrens were killed. The people wanted- needed- something to hunt.

172\. 171. 170. Virgil was growing more anxious by the day. Maybe he should get tattooed after all.

150\. 149. 148. He needed an escape. 137.134.129. Only a couple more days until winter break. He could survive until the break.

127 days left and he was out the door as fast as possible. Virgil loved holiday breaks. Not for seeing family or because he was particularly fond of winter festivities (quite the opposite in fact) but because winter break was three weeks without security guards at every corner. Three weeks without teachers who could have him arrested. Three weeks without someone trying to find and kill him.

So, yeah, Virgil loved holiday breaks.

Virgil was sitting on the living room sofa with his mother, mindlessly watching holiday movies. “And up next,” his mother said in a faux impression of a radio announcer, “three more movies that follow the same story of a businesswoman meeting her soulmate.”

“Brought to you by Hallmark,” Virgil said. The two of them shared a quick moment of laughter before Virgil’s eyes darted to his mother’s wrist and then the floor. “What was it like meeting Dad?”

“It was… simple,” she said. “It wasn’t quite the fireworks and explosion of orchestral sound that everyone describes but… it was nice.” The slightest smile graced her as she recalled her late husband. “Having a soulmate named ‘John’ didn’t exactly simplify things by much, so we didn’t exactly know in the beginning. We got to know each other and the romance started from there. It was simple. Calm. Nice.”

Virgil forced a smile at the story, but the bittersweet feeling was there. His father had died just over fifteen years ago. Virgil hadn’t known him well enough to miss him.

100 days left until graduation. Everything was going smoothly. Almost too smoothly if you were to ask Virgil. The weather would be starting to warm up soon.

67 days left of school. Only a few more months until graduation. Virgil would be fine. He could survive this. Right?

Right?

“Why do you always wear that jacket?” a girl had asked him, promptly sitting down next to Virgil’s (previously) only company.

“I get cold arms,” Virgil lied.

“Pretty sure he’s a vampire.”

“Pretty sure you’re a snake,” Virgil hissed.

“Jokes on you! I love snakes!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Whatever, I’m leaving.”

“Wait don’t go,” the girl said, grabbing the sleeve of Virgil’s jacket.

“Let go!” Virgil yelled, pulling away. His struggle against her grip managed to free his arm completely from the jacket. When she finally let go, Virgil knew exactly why. The word was on the tip of her tongue but the only word he could hear was “run” pounding against his brain. So he listened.

He dropped his bags, shoving his arm back into the sleeve and began to run. People were shouting “Barren!” at him and at the campus police. He had to ride the wave of adrenaline against them as far as he could.

His legs pounded against the pavement and fresh morning dew burned in Virgil’s lungs. Yet, he couldn’t run forever. A hurricane grabbed his arm and pulled him in. Two strong men were holding him above the ground as he kicked and tried to pull all his strength to get away from them. He had to get away from them. His life depended on it.

He could hear the taunts and insults being thrown at him from every direction.

“Heartless!”

“Evil!” “Monster!”

He needed someone, anyone, to help him. “Dee!” he called out. “Help me! Please!” He was gambling and he knew it, but he needed any shred of friendship to save him. The boy stepped forward as the crowd parted to watch him. Virgil was saying a silent prayer.

“Monsters should be hunted.”


	2. Chapter 2

There was little difference between trash being thrown into a dumpster and a prisoner being escorted to their cell. Virgil’s knees slid against the concrete and the skin tore from the friction. It was Thursday. Virgil had less than 72 hours left to live.

The guard marched away leaving Virgil with only dust and his growing list of regrets. He wished he could have said something to his mom before they took him away. Something. Anything. He wished he didn’t waste so much time studying for final exams he’ll never have to take. He wished that he could have had the chance to tell _someone_ he loved them. Cruel as it would be now, at least that hypothetical person would have the knowledge that Virgil was capable of love. Barren, but not heartless. Barren and _not_ heartless.

Who cared about graduation? Only the execution mattered now. Virgil refused to eat what little food they gave him. His empty stomach thought of one more regret. He regretted not getting a tattoo. However, his thoughts and regrets were interrupted by the footsteps of a passing guard. This guard, though, was apparently one that Virgil had never seen before, as the man’s footsteps were much lighter and in better time than the other guards’ had been.

Virgil backed himself into a corner as the guard approached. He was skinnier, and overall in much better shape than the typical day guard. He was different. In this world, different was suspicious. Different was wrong. Virgil’s blank wrist was proof enough of that.

He eyed the guard for a moment, just barely avoiding eye contact. When the guard marched out Virgil continued to stay silent. Never saying anything to him, or any of the normal guards, but refusing to forget. He did not see the guard until later on that night. Odd, he found it, that the guard did not follow the schedule of the other guards or of any prison employee.

In fact, he seemed to avoid the schedule of the other employees and security guards. Furthermore, while the other guards always seemed to be watching Virgil like prey, this man had almost no interest in Virgil. He was scanning the area. Plotting. Mapping. Always running through a million equations and statistics through his head as if his glasses were computer screens that could download data directly into his brain. He was indeed an inquisitive man and Virgil watched him very closely.

Saturday was the first time the guard approached Virgil. He was far more anxious that day. While he could hide emotions from deep under his skin like a pro, Virgil had been studying people for far too long. This man was constantly alert to any sound or slight movement coming towards them, and the clocks inside his eyes were keeping track of every passing millisecond. “You want to get out of here with your life, I presume?” the guard asked in a hushed whisper, pulling himself against the rusty bars.

Virgil stood up, trying his best to look intimidating as he approached the gate slowly. Close enough to talk, but leaving just enough space to make sure the guard couldn’t attack him at the last moment. Even if he wasn’t a real guard, there was still no guarantee that he was on Virgil’s side. The idea of someone breaking into a government facility just to deliver their own malicious form of justice was not exactly unheard of.

So, yes, Virgil was quite careful with where he placed himself.

“Stay quiet, stay alert, and most importantly,” he whispered, poking his head between the bars, “stay awake.”

“Well thank you, kind stranger, for that cryptic ass message that does not help me at all!” Virgil wanted to yell at the faux guard who was quickly marching away. As the guard left, Virgil slumped back onto the floor, preserving what little energy he had left.

Saturday night. Virgil silently watched at the last midnight he would ever get to live through. The stars were glitter poured upon a vast ocean of black tar, broken only by a perfect crescent moon. He felt his heart sink as his eyes ached, desperate to cry one last time… but he couldn’t do it. Not now. Not ever again. He had cried his last tears years ago. He had to admit that now.

He was so caught up in the artistry that he was deaf to the squeaking of the metal gate the opened behind him. The gentle touch on his shoulder scared him more than half to death. “Why would you do that, asshole?!”

“I predict that tone towards me shall improve upon me once I get you to your freedom,” the guard said.

“My freedom?”

“Yes,” the guard said, a hint of agitation in his voice. “Do you want to get out or not?” Virgil nodded quickly. “Good.”

The guard pulled a makeshift tool out of his pocket and used it to remove the metal bars from the window. The opening was small, barely enough for one person to fit through, but he still managed. He had one arm out of the window, and about half of his torso outside. He pulled a rock from his pocket with his hand that was still inside the cell and maneuvered around to pass it to his free hand. He gripped onto the rock, studying the windows outside. Careful… Careful…

He tossed the rock at a window about two stories up and listened for the loud clang of stone and metal. He quickly pulled himself back into the cell and grabbed Virgil’s hand. “Run,” he said.

His heart was pounding but he finally knew he could trust someone. For now, at least. He followed the guard- who was much better at running than Virgil could ever hope to be- and didn’t even bother wondering what the plan was. Wait. Was there a plan? There had to be, right? He pushed those thoughts aside. His survival was currently rooted in blind following. Normally, he would have hated that idea, but oh how the tables have turned.

They were almost out of the building when they were spotted. Armed guards began to chase them down. Faster. Stronger. Armed. Faster. Stronger. Armed. Faster. Stronger. Faster. Stronger. Armed. Weapons. Guns. Bullets. Guns. Bullets.

Virgil’s mind was chasing as his companion grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. The two hit the ground with the sound of gunshots, hiding in the tall grass. Virgil’s heart was pounding and between his blood pressure and the gunshots, he couldn’t hear a word the man was saying to him. He could, however, maintain his focus just long enough to read the words “follow me” on the man’s lips.

He followed the man, both of them army crawling through plants as bullets ripped through the air. “There’s an unguarded alleyway right there,” the man said. “We can wait there while I call Roman for support.”

“Roman?” Virgil asked, but his question was never answered. The man popped his head up from the grass, calculating for a moment. In a mere second, he picked Virgil up and ran behind the building. He pulled a burner phone from his pocket and called one of the only two contacts he had saved. “Roman, meet us by the river in the forest at the north side,” he said in a hushed but quick voice to the phone. “And bring your Jeep. We might be followed.”

He put the phone away and pressed his back to the concrete wall. Sharp pain dragged through his body and became far too difficult to ignore. By their own accord, his hands moved to his side. Not lethal, but not great. He could only guess so many logical options as to why his side was suddenly wet and in pain, but his predictions were proven correct.

Virgil took sight to the blood on his fists. “Holy shit, are you okay? Mister, uh…” he asked in a panicked whisper.

“Logan,” the guard said. “My name is Logan and I shall be fine once Roman arrives.”

Virgil took a deep breath and nodded understandingly. “Where is he taking us?”

“Hm?”

“Roman,” Virgil said. “Where is he taking us?”

Logan looked through Virgil, trying to see everything all at once. “I can’t say that here,” he said, never once making eye contact with Virgil. “You never know who’s listening.”

Virgil felt his stomach drop and his heart start to pound in his chest. He’s hiding from men with guns who want him dead, with a bleeding stranger he just met, and no idea where they were headed. “How do I know I can trust you?” he asked, his voice hitching more than he’d prefer.

“I saved your life, have I not?” Logan asked.

“I’ll keep repeating myself until I get an answer,” Virgil said. “How do I know I can trust you?”

They both looked to each other, holding the opposite in an icy glare. Logan took a deep breath and tugged up at his left sleeve, never once breaking eye contact. Virgil stared at the arm held in front of him. Inky black letters were written in perfect cursive displaying a single word on his wrist.

_**Barren.**_


	3. Chapter 3

“God, you look like shit,” Roman said as the Jeep drove up to the ally. 

“How kind of you to say,” Logan said, rolling his eyes. “Do you suppose Patton would know how to bandage this up?”

Roman looked up and down at the blood soaking Logan’s shirt. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Followed by, “Logan, that’s a very rude gesture in front of our new guest. Hop in, new kid.”

“Virgil,” he said. “My name is Virgil.”

Roman opened his mouth to respond but the sound of gunshots drawing near was never a good sign. “Well, Virgil,” he said, “I hope you don’t get motion sickness. This ride is about to get bumpy.” With that said, he slammed his lead foot onto the gas. Bullets ripped through the air, as Roman drove out of the ally. Virgil started to panic as they approached an old wooden bridge that crossed a rocky ravine.

“Roman,” Virgil said. “Roman, that bridge can’t support this weight.”

Roman glanced back towards Virgil. “That’s quitter’s talk,” he said. Roman took a deep breath and slammed the gas once more. The Jeep went over the old bridge, wood breaking under them as the car struggled to balance. On the bright side, at least Virgil expected to die today. The sun was rising as they crossed the clearing. The bridge was all but completely destroyed as they drove away in a hurry.

Orange light streamed through green leaves of life against a painted backdrop of a pale and silvery blue. The stream was sparkling with a thousand diamonds and the heavy foliage produced a crisp kind of air that Virgil was sure came only from fairytales.

It would have been glorious if not for the muddy tires tracks and screaming brought by Roman. Though some of the loud screams might have been from Virgil yelling “ROMAN YOU’RE GONNA HIT THAT TREE” every two seconds. Logan, however, was very calm which was unexpected from a man bleeding out.

Roman glanced around at the trees as they made their way deeper into the forest. As they passed by a tree with a carving that Virgil couldn’t quite make out, Roman began to count. “Where are we-“ Virgil began to ask, but Logan put a finger to his own lips and gestured to Roman. Whatever he was doing couldn’t be disturbed.

“…42, 43…,” he whispered, “44…45.” He took a deep breath and parked the Jeep. “Boys, we’re home.”

Virgil sat up from his seat. He was sure to expect other people, buildings, or some sort of underground military base. Instead, he found…trees. “Roman, where the fuck are we?” he asked.

Roman looked at him with a smirk and pulled a device out of his pocket. It looked like a Swiss Army knife with some sort of grey button on the top. He pressed the button and watched Virgil’s face as the car began to sink. No, the car wasn’t sinking, the ground was. The foliage around them slowly lowered falling around the cracks as the rectangle of land around them lowered.

Logan smiled fondly at the contraption. “It’s a hydraulic press. Uses water and air,” he said simply. “I designed it myself.”

“Woah,” Virgil said, releasing all the tension in his shoulders and letting his face fall into that of an awestruck child. When the press finally lowered completely to the floor, Roman drove forward into the concrete hallway, pressing the button on the knife once more. Virgil glanced behind him at the press as the platform raised once more.

He didn’t know what to expect, or entirely who he could trust, but he knew that whatever he was in for would be a rollercoaster.


	4. Chapter 4

Patton kept his head down and his sleeves rolled up. He had to stay calm. It was one trip to the city. He’d be fine. He thumbed over the letters on his wrist to calm himself down “ _Roman_ ,” he read out loud with a smile.

He entered the dreary convenience store and smiled at the clerk. The clerk did not smile back. His attention was on the old television in the corner. “…execution canceled after break in….suspect last seen with getaway driver….fugitive named Virgil Bianchi wanted dead or alive….” Patton hid his smile behind a list of groceries. Logan did it. Another Barren was safe.

He brought a handful of cereal boxes and granola bars to the counter, still smiling at the stoic clerk. “Lovely day, isn’t it, sir?” Patton asked, glancing out to the rain and fog.

“How ‘lovely’ can it be?” the man asked with a seething scowl. He nodded towards the television and brought his gaze back to Patton. “A killer is out on the streets.”

“I don’t think that boy was a killer,” Patton said. “His only crime was being Barren.”

“We kill them before they kill us,” the man said, his eyes falling on Patton’s wrist. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you pity the damn monster.”

Patton gulped, tracing his thumb over Roman’s name. He wished Roman was with him now, knowing he’d need the charisma to escape this with more than his life. “No sir,” he said meekly. The clerk seemed less than pleased with his answer, studying his mark once more for any hint of it being fraudulent. Finally, a chance to change the conversation into something less dangerous. “Roman,” he said, “that’s my soulmate’s name. He’s a really sweet guy. Strong too.” The man continued his glare but handed over the bag of groceries.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be getting these home to him.” 

“Yes, sir!” Patton yelped, taking the bag and rushing out of the store as quickly as possible. He walked a block further before examining his wrist once again. The black ink was just darker than the natural pigmentation of a real soul Mark. Otherwise, it was a perfect copy. A decoy. A survival tactic.

Patton rolled down the sleeves of his cardigan as he continued walking through the city. It was only a few blocks away, and judging by all the texts from Roman, he’d need to get home in one piece. He took a deep breath in. Deep breath out. He pulled out his phone and called Roman.

_Ring…_

_Ring…_

_Ring…_

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Get the equipment ready.”

He put the phone in his pocket and quickened his speed. With every step, he was adding another thing to his to-do list. He went off track and stepped into an old corner store, letting his focus take over his manners. He grabbed a cheap beach towel, some teething rings, and a king-sized chocolate bar. He paid and left just as quietly as he had arrived.

He wasted no time when he got to the shelter. “Did Roman actually listen to me this time?” Patton asked playfully.

“Did you ask him to get out all the band-aids and liquor that we own?” Remy asked, with a laugh.

Patton rolled his eyes. “It’s a start.” He squirted hand sanitizer into his palms and rubbed his hands together as they continued to walk. “Where’s Logan?”

“Roman has him all but held prisoner in the medical room. Real overdramatic, if you ask me. I was like ‘Girl, he ain’t going nowhere’ but does Roman listen to me? Nope!” he said, popping the last syllable like bubble gum. “Em’s got the new kid around here somewhere, probably trying to keep him calm.”

“Poor kiddo,” Patton said quietly. “I’ll be sure to introduce myself to him after I fix up our little loganberry. Oh! But of course, I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“He was driving with Roman.”

“Fair point.”

Roman was waiting, frantically shaking his leg, as he sat outside of the charcoal grey doors of the medical room. He rushed to his feet as Patton approached, running up to him and pulling him into a hug. Patton knew he had to keep his hands sterile but- screw it he could just wash his hands again before interacting with the wound. Roman needed contact.

Roman pressed his lips against Patton’s cheek and both of them were very aware of the heavy beating of Roman’s pulse. “I was so worried,” Roman said, his voice was the quiet whisper he reserved only for Patton. “I… I couldn’t let them know that, but I was terrified. I was worried that Logan was doing worse than he was letting on- oh you know how he hates to tell us when he’s in pain. He told me it wasn’t lethal but- ugh- he’s such a liar sometimes and you just can’t be sure!” He held Patton even closer, his breath leaving water vapor on Patton’s neck. “God, and I was so worried about _you_!” he whispered, sounding as if he could cry. “I know you can take care of yourself, I just wish you didn’t have to. I wish… I wish I could spend every moment protecting you.” He was constricting against Patton like a snake, but the other didn’t mind. “And I wish Logan had been more careful.”

Patton pulled away from the hug to hold Roman’s face in his hands. He was a few inches taller than Roman, conveniently leaving Roman at the perfect height for forehead kisses. Patton pressed his lips to Roman’s head and smoothed his hair. “I’m gonna make sure Logan stays safe, okay? I’m sure you can stay safe with Remy, after all, you are my brave little knight.”

Roman nodded softly. “I should go check in on Virgil. Oh, but Patton, please tell me as soon as Logan is doing okay, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Patton said, delivering one last kiss to Roman’s forehead. “Now go keep Remy company.” Roman nodded, following Remy as Patton approached the medical fools. “Patton, wait!” he called.

Patton turned on his heels, leaving his fingers to just brush the cold metal. “Yes, Roman?”

“I- listen- I know you don’t need it, I have all my faith in you but,” he took a deep breath, “good luck Patton.”

“I love you too, Roman,” Patton said before disappearing into the cold, grey room.

“Took you long enough,” Logan teased, laying flat against the metal table. “I didn’t think you two would ever stop flirting. I was about to do the operation myself!”

Patton rolled his eyes, dumping the contents of his shopping bag onto the counter. He rolled a pump worth of hand sanitizer around his palms until it was nearly gone from sight. He snapped a pair of rubber gloves on and instructed Logan to take off his shirt.

“What’s this?” Logan asked, staring dubiously at the item Patton held in front of him. He tossed the blood-soaked polo shirt aside.

“It’s a teething ring. Take it.”

“A teething ring?” Logan asked. “My dear Patton, how infantile do you think me to be?”

“Just be glad I don’t make you bite the bullet that’s in you,” Patton retorted. “Where did Roman stash the liquor?”

“Far left cabinet, top shelf,” Logan said. “It should all be there,” he continued, “I told Roman that if he took any before you used it I’d slash the tires of his precious Jeep and make him fix it himself.”

“Ah so I see the bullet hasn’t changed your personality at all,” Patton said, “that’s lovely to know.”

“You couldn’t live without me,” Logan with a chuckle.

“Ah. Blood loss,” Patton noted. He held the teething ring above Logan’s mouth. “Open up and bite down.”

“Never.”

“Have it your way then,” Patton said, opening up the liquor and pouring it over the wound. “Don’t grind your teeth, that’s bad for your jaw,” he said, forcing Logan to take the teething ring. He took a pair of sterilized tweezers and carefully analyzed every gory detail of the wound. He determined that it would be safe to remove the bullet as long as he worked as carefully as possible. He felt _horrible_ knowing that he was hurting Logan, but as the bullet came out, he knew he was doing this for a greater good. He snapped off the gloves, tossing them into a trash can and putting fresh ones on. He folded the towel perfectly to be just larger than the wound and held it down as much as he could as he studied Logan’s face. Color began to return as he released the tension from his jaw. “I’m sorry, Logan.”

“Don’t be,” Logan said between deep breaths. “You were just doing your job to correct an error that happened during mine. I was as careful as I could be, truly, but I am- well- I’m becoming rather concerned that my best isn’t good enough.” He closed his eyes and continued to focus on his breathing. “I couldn’t even save her, Patton. I couldn’t even get close to her.”

Patton sighed as he reached for the gauze. “You can’t save everyone, Logan. As much as I wish we could, that just… it’s not realistic. Sit up please, and hold that rag down, we want to keep the blood _inside_ your body.”

“If the best of my abilities aren’t adequate enough, then what use am I to the cause? What use am I to you? To Roman, Remy, and Emile?” Logan asked.

Patton looked to him sadly as he wrapped the material around Logan’s hips and stomach. “You don’t have to have a ‘use’ or some task to fill,” Patton said. “You don’t need to be risking your life to be ‘adequate’ enough for us.” He ripped the final bit of gauze from the spool and secured it to the rest of what mummified the wound. “I care about you, Logan. _Roman_ cares about you, Logan.”

“Roman cares about me?” Logan scoffed. “Yeah, and I saw pigs flying through the forest earlier. There’s also a blizzard in hell right now!”

Patton sighed. “I’ll just blame that on the bloodloss,” he murmured. He picked up Logan, who tiredly lay his head on Patton’s shoulder, and carried him out of the medical room. “I don’t want you getting out of bed until that wound is healed, okay? I’ll have Emile bring dinner around for you later.” He carefully opened the door to Logan’s living quarters and placed him sitting up on the bed. Logan, who had grown very tired, accepted this treatment like a rag doll as Patton carefully removed his shoes and socks. “I’m afraid I can’t let you under the covers quite yet- don’t want to make Emile clean blood off of your bedding- but I do hope that you get some rest.” He smoothed out Logan’s hair the way a mother might soothe her sick child and watched as Logan fell into a deep sleep. His rose and fell steadily and Patton held a horrible fear that the movement may stop if he were to walk away. He knew that meeting with Virgil was the next step he should take. The next step he had to take. Yet, deep down, he had to be with Logan, and no harm could come from postponing the meeting just a little bit more.


	5. Chapter 5

“Thank you, Dr. Picani,” Virgil said, absentmindedly clicking the buttons of a fidget cube that Picani had given him.

“My patients call me Dr. Picani. My friends call me Emile,” the therapist said with a smile.

“Right, well, Emile,” Virgil said, “thank you.”

“Of course,” Emile said. “Though I suppose I should be checking in on Logan. We haven’t heard from Patton in quite some time.”

“Oh, here,” Virgil said, offering the cube back to Emile, his bare wrist poking out from his jacket. Emile smiled and closed Virgil’s fingers around the hard plastic.

“I have plenty in my office,” he said. “You should keep this one. They’re quite handy and you seem like you’ll need it.”

Virgil smiled softly to himself in the dimly lit room as Emile shut the door behind himself. He took a deep breath, focusing only on applying and releasing pressure from the buttons. There was so much he had to learn and adjust to. Sure, Emile had certainly helped, but he still had to meet Patton and Remy. He had to see if Logan was okay. He pressed his thumb against a soft red button. He didn’t even know _what_ to think of Roman. He released his thumb. He took a deep breath. _It’s dinner. If I could survive being shot at, I can live through dinner. If I can live through this, I can do anything._

He crept from the room slowly, the acidic smell of tomato sauce roaming through the air and battling the sizzling sound of meat to encapture Virgil’s senses. As his stomach rumbled he realized that he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in nearly a week. “Ah, well speak of the devil,” Roman said with a smirk painted with bravado. Virgil almost didn’t notice the pure exhaustion in his eyes. “We were just talking about how bold and daring I was to rescue you.”

Virgil cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh yeah? Then why did Logan do all the work?”

“OH! OH, Gurl, he just roasted yo’ ass!” Remy yelled, howling with laughter in the kitchen. Roman rolled his eyes, glaring daggers at Remy.

“Well I see you’re on his good side already,” Roman muttered, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. His sleeves rolled up just enough for Virgil to notice the lines that decorated his wrist.

“You aren’t Barren?” Virgil asked, feeling as if he were in a parallel world.

Roman offered a smile as he tugged up his sleeve. “The only ones who aren’t Barren,” he said, pointing to Remy and Emile, “are these two.”

“So, it’s a tattoo?” Virgil asked.

“Catching on quickly I see,” Roman teased, holding up his wrist to allow Virgil a better look. “Very realistic, if you ask me. Patton deserves all the credit for that. We grew up together,” he explained. “We’re both Barren. We had to be each other’s closest ally. The day we turned 18 we…” Roman smiled. “Well, I guess that’s a story for another time.”

“So Patton is some kind of doctoring tattoo artist badass?” Virgil asked.

“Oh, Roman, what are you telling the poor kiddo?” a man asked. Virgil spun around on his heel to face a man in khaki pants and a blue sweater that seemed to envelop his entire body.

“Patton!” Roman said with a smile, all the agony fading from his dim eyes as they brightened upon the sight of the man. “Is Logan okay?” he asked before turning to Virgil and commenting, “Not that I care about the nerd or anything. In all honesty, I think he’s being overdramatic.”

“Hypocrite,” Remy commented as he placed silverware on the table.

“He should have a perfectly fine recovery,” Patton said with a smile. “Though, he won’t be joining us for dinner; he really needs the rest right now and- Oh! How rude of me!” He stepped forward with a hand extended outwardly. “You’re Virgil, correct? I’m Patton!”

“He’s our patented Man of Many Talents around here,” Roman explained.

“Heh, Patton-ted,” Patton chuckled to himself.

“Ever need a doc,” Roman said. “Patton’s your guy. Also a great tattoo artist, chef, and cuddle-buddy.”

“Cuddle-buddy?” Virgil parotted.

“I share chef duties with Emile,” Patton explained. “And Roman gets nightmares.”

“Do not!” Roman yelled defensively. “How dare you slander my great name!” Patton chuckled, lovingly patting Roman’s shoulder as he wordlessly made his way to the kitchen.

“I presume the nightmares are a lie, then?” Virgil asked with a smirk.

“Fake soulmate,” was all Roman muttered before abandoning the conversation in exchange for setting the table. Virgil watched the bustle around him. Patton and Emile finishing their work in the kitchen. Roman balancing plates and silverware in his arms as he scolded Remy for slacking. They were all working together. They were a team, working together as a small organized pod. Virgil was literally and metaphorically an outsider. He felt a pain in his stomach. Five senses. He had to work through his senses. Five things he could see. That was simple enough, right?

He could see Emile. He could see Roman. But he couldn’t see any windows. He couldn’t see Logan. He couldn’t see his mom. Okay, maybe sight wasn’t a great starting place.

Smell. What could he smell? He could smell tomatoes. He could almost smell blood. Was it from the medical room? Was it from Logan? Was it his imagination? _The smell of rust was killing his head and his stomach. Was he nauseated? Was he hungry? Was his stomach even filled enough to vomit anything at all?_

No. No. Air comes in; bad thoughts go out. In comes morning; out goes nightmares. What exactly had that phrase been that his mother had taught him so long ago? His mother, oh no, what was _she_ thinking? Did she know Virgil had escaped? Did she think him dead?

Would she be okay or did years of loss after loss finally break her?

Would Virgil even have a mother to come back to?

Would he come back at all?

He let his feet carry him all on their own until he was sprinting out of the kitchen and to a cold wooden door. He ripped it open, slammed it shut, and pushed his back against it as he slowly let himself fall to the ground. The horrible feeling in his chest of a boa constrictor around his lungs had him gasping for air and he was sure he was having a heart attack.

“Deep breaths, Virgil,” a voice said. “Focus solely on your breathing, and don’t let your thoughts get in the way.”

Virgil tried to take the advice- honestly, he did try- but it was too much. It was too overwhelming. He couldn’t focus. His head was filling with this horrible tingling and the more he gasped for air the worse it got. He held his head in his hands and _oh God why was this happening?_

“Virgil, I need you to listen to me,” the voice said. It was soft and gentle, the most soothing thing Virgil had heard in years. He felt hands on his shoulders and if he had to energy to he would have looked up at the person in front of him. “Can you hear my voice? More importantly, can you _understand_ my voice?”

“Mmhmm,” Virgil mumbled out.

“Good, good, that’s a step. You’re doing good, Virgil. Just keep taking deep breaths alright?”

He felt the tingly feeling start to leave his face, though it was still uncomfortably present in his fingers and hands. He felt his heart rate start to become more noticeable which he guess was a better option than the crushing feeling of his lungs only moments earlier.

“I’m gonna walk you through a breathing exercise, all right? I’ll do it with you. You’ll be okay.” Virgil nodded. “I want you to breathe in for four seconds. Hold for seven seconds. Then, breathe out for eight seconds. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” Virgil mumbled out weakly.

“Perfect.”

The two of them went through the exercise two- three- four times before Virgil felt like himself again. He finally looked up and saw Logan staring back at him. “Logan, I- You should be in bed, oh I’m so sorry I didn’t-”

“Virgil, you’re going to work yourself up again,” he said calmly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Virgil asked, eyes drawn down to the gauze around Logan’s body.

“Of course I will be,” Logan said. “This isn’t my first metaphorical rodeo and, if there’s one thing Roman and I agree on, it’s that we both put our trust and lives in Patton’s hands.”

“I’m still not entirely sure what to think of all this,” Virgil admitted. 

“That was the reaction I expected from you,” Logan said. “Your admittance here is temporary, most of whom we rescue go off to meet with colleagues of ours. They’re given new homes and new identities in the best cases. Others eventually join our organization, but I’m sure that we’ll find you in the former half on that ratio. 18, right? Yes, you have so much potential ahead of you.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Virgil said. “Organization? And how do you know my age? What else do you know about me?”

“Virgil, did you think all of this was really put together by five guys in their twenties?” Logan asked, the corners of his lips turning upwards subtly.

“Well, I- I guess not, but-”

“And as for the other questions, well, I like to be prepared.” Logan stood, motioning for Virgil to do the same. He had a rather wiry structure, but well-toned muscles that Virgil could only assume he had built up from doing this job for so long. “Now, you should really be on your way back to dinner. The others will be looking for you soon.”

“But, wait, what about-” Virgil tried to speak but found himself being pulled out of the room by magnets on his feet.

“Goodbye, Virgil.”

The door was shut in his face, and the high school senior now had more questions than answers.


	6. Chapter 6

Virgil had been completely wordless all of dinner. Remy had tried to get him to budge, but he simply had too much on his mind. At the end of the meal, he took everyone’s empty plates, put them in the sink, and went back to his room.

He paced around the dim room, not bothering to turn on any of the overhead lights. A yellow glow emerged from a desk lamp in the corner of the room. He continued to pace, trying to remember everything Logan had told him. He couldn’t get worked up again. He tried to put all his focus on simply not getting upset again. But…what did he usually do when he was anxious?

Well, for starters, he’d usually talk through it with his mom. Right… his mom. Virgil lowered himself to the floor, pushing his back against the cheap bed frame. He supposed he could talk to someone out there, but, figuring out who would be the real problem. Sure, he and Emile had had a fairly decent talk, but it was hard to differentiate what Emile could deal with as a therapist versus as a friend. Was “friend” even an appropriate term at this point?

There was Logan, but, no. No, Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to go back and face Logan. Roman and Remy were both too ridiculously _extra_ to have a proper heart to heart with. He considered Patton but…

He felt himself to be hopeless when his eyes drifted towards the gentle lemon light of the old lamp sitting on the even older desk. Next to it, he found yellowed notebook paper and a cup of dulled pencils. Virgil weighed his options. If he couldn’t talk, he could certainly write. He picked himself up from the floor, made his way to the desk, and as he picked up a pencil and began to think. “Dear Mom,” he whispered as he wrote…

_When Virgil was 4 years old, the concept of death was not one with which he was all too familiar. All he knew was that his father was somewhere far away. Somewhere where he couldn’t come back. Flowers filled nearly every part of the living room, and the kitchen was filled with platters of premade sandwiches and deli meats. Virgil was peeping into the kitchen, spying to see if any company remained in the house or if he was free to wander around. He could see his mother standing over the kitchen table talking with a woman who looked to be only slightly older than herself. “Nicole,” the woman said, putting a hand on his mother’s shoulder, “are you sure you’ll be okay? I don’t mind helping out around the house, you know! I’ve always been a stellar babysitter!”_

_Nicole looked back towards the wall, making a smile at her son that he wouldn’t understand until years later. She brought her attention back to her conversation. “If I can get a four-year degree in half the time,” she said, “I can raise Virgil on my own.”_

_“Without John?” the woman asked, she sounded disbelieving and sarcastic._

_“John isn’t gone,” Nicole said. “Not entirely. I see him in Virgil’s smile. My son’s freckles are a carbon copy of my husband’s. So, no, I won’t be doing this without John, and I don’t need anyone else to help me. So thanks, but no thanks.”_

Virgil smiled fondly at the memory, tears pricking at his eyes. He dropped the pencil and pressed his palms to his eyes. Strangely, the tears weren’t sad; yet, they were not exactly happy either. They were nostalgic as he stayed stuck remembering the father he never knew well enough to truly miss. He picked up the pencil and started writing again.

_When he was 11, him being Barren was absolutely undebatable. That was also the age when Virgil began to wear shirts that were a little too big with sleeves that were a little too long and Nicole Bianchi was seemingly much more interested in tattoo artistry._

_When he was 13, his grandmother died and instead of attending the funeral, both he and his mother ran away. They packed up everything that would fit in their car and drove far away from Florida. The only Barren-Sympathizer in their family was dead now. They had to move forward. They had to move on._

Virgil stared down at the paper in front of him. Graphite was smeared across the paper on his hand and the sour lemon light was bitter on his eyes. There was a soft knock on the door. “Hey, kiddo? Are you alright? It’s getting kinda late.” Virgil’s eyes darted to a dusty digital clock sitting on a different part of the day. 12:47 a.m.

“Yeah, I’m….” Virgil cut himself off. He couldn’t bring himself to lie right now. “I’ll go to sleep soon.”

There was a soft exhale from the other side of the door. “Can I come in? I want to properly introduce myself without Roman’s… boisterous eccentricities.” If Virgil didn’t know any better, he could have sworn that Logan was on the other side of that door.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, taking the paper from the desk and crumpling it into a ball. He tossed all his emotions into the trash can and fell back into the old chair. He watched Patton enter the room gingerly, his eyes darting to every spec of dust and creaky floorboard.

“We’ll have this room cleaned up for you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Virgil said. “Besides, this is a five-star hotel compared to the week I’ve had.”

Patton’s face twisted into a frown. “Yes, I suppose that’s correct, but I still think we should make this place look nice. You’ll be with us for a while. We want to make this feel like a proper home.”

“A while,” Virgil repeated, looking to his pale skin. “Right.”

“You sound less than ecstatic about that,” Patton said.

Virgil took a deep breath, much too tired to cling onto his bravado. “When can I see my mom? When can I go home?”

Patton bit his lip, gazing at Virgil with tender eyes that shone with concern and empathy. “I guess you haven’t seen the news.” Virgil furrowed his brow, twitching his fingers nervously. “You’re a fugitive now. If they see you, they’ll kill you. That’s not a risk we can take.”

“So I’m just… in another prison?” Virgil said.

Patton shifted uncomfortably where he stood. “Well, when you say it like that, Kiddo, I-“

“What’s the point of being saved if I’m just gonna be trapped down here for the rest of time?!” Virgil asked, poison rising in his throat.

“If you would let me explain then-“

“I don’t want a _fucking explanation!_ ” Virgil yelled. His chest rose and fell with harsh movements and his arms were shaking uncontrollably. “I just want some answers okay?!”

Patton’s heart sank as the room fell silent. Virgil was still young and naive. Even if he fought the idea, and even if he argued otherwise, Virgil was a child. “Kiddo, I don’t have the answers you need. You’re asking yourself a lot of the bigger questions and I can’t answer those for you. That’s something you need to answer yourself.” He tried to keep a firm but gentle face as Virgil looked up at him. Patton resisted the urge to frown and cave in when he saw Virgil squinting at him with eyes that were glazed with red glass.

“Get out,” Virgil said, the crack of his voice betraying his mask of malice. “Just leave me the hell alone, okay? If I’m going to be a prisoner, I might as well rot like one.”

“Kiddo, you-”

“I said ‘get out!’” Virgil yelled. His voice was loud and echoey, filled with a brave lion’s roar and flooded with venom; yet it was a mask, a disguise, a security blanket used to hide a crying child from a cold an uncaring world- a Barren child who spent every day of his life preparing to make sure it wasn’t his last. Patton took a deep breath. He nodded slowly, remember what life was like before he had found this place. He backed away slowly, remembering what life has been like before he found Logan.

He closed the door behind him. Ten seconds later he heard the lock click. He walked away quietly, remembering what life had been like when it was only him and Roman.


	7. Chapter 7

“Ms. Bianchi, you’re going to need come with us.”

“That’s _Mrs. Bianchi_ to you and I’m not going anywhere,” Nicole said, keeping her hand tightly around the doorknob in case she had to slam it shut. The officer in front of her cleared his throat, signaling two of his friends over.

“Mrs. Bianchi, this is a matter of national security. We have a viable reason to believe that you are a vital part of this investigation. Failure to cooperate will lead to your arrest,” he said, glaring menacingly down on her. “Failure to cooperate may also have an effect on your son upon his capture.”

Nicole let go of the door in a moment of panic. “What?”

“Your son, Mrs. Bianchi, I trust you’ve been staying up to date with the news,” the officer said. “It’s very dangerous to be uninformed, ma’am.”

“I’ve been… busy,” Nicole lied. She had unplugged her tv the day Virgil had been taken. She couldn’t stand his death being the last time she saw her son. “I got a promotion at work and I’ve been preoccupied with that.”

The officer gave her an inquisitive glance as she tried her best to uphold her bluff. They were at a stalemate for quite some time as each refused to move or show any sign of weakness. “Mrs. Bianchi, I could wait here all day, or you can make this easier on yourself.” He leaned closer to her, still towering above the woman as his breath hit her face. She tried to stay strong, but the idea that her son was still alive never left her. The idea that she could _save_ him. It was ridiculous, yes, but many things in the life of Nicole Bianchi were seen as “ridiculous” in some way or another. Ridiculousness was an idea that she scoffed at. “Oh good, I see you’ve finally come to your senses. Right, this way, Miss.”

It was freezing in the interrogation room that Nicole had been handcuffed into. Honestly, she thought it rude that the officers never gave her time or warning to grab a jacket. A sensible woman wouldn’t have been anywhere this cold in shorts and a tank top.

“I’m sorry to leave you waiting here, Miss. Bianchi,” an old man said as he entered the interrogation room, leaving it locked closed behind him. His uniform was different than that of the guards she had seen earlier. His was more square and his uniform was a dark- almost indigo- blue compared to the harsh and bleached blue of the other officers’ respected garments. “You’ve lived with a Blank-”

“A Barren, yes.”

“Blank, Barren, whatever the hell we’re callin’ ‘em these days,” the man said with a chuckle. Nicole fought against the twist in her stomach to force a smile. She had to make sure she seemed genuine and relaxed around him. She’d save her son, even if it wasn’t in the way in the officers had “led her to believe” that she would. “You should have plenty of information to help us… understand-” _Eliminate._ “-them better.”

Nicole put on her customer service voice and a fake smile as she leaned forward; the cold metal handcuff was still tugging at her wrist. “Ask away then, sir.”

“Has the subject ever shown any, well, psychotic behavior?”

“Virgil doesn’t exhibit any signs of psychosis if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Interesting,” the man said, scribbling a pen against his clipboard. “Int-er-es-ting.” He tapped the pen against his graying mustache. “Any genetic traces to the subject?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The subject- eh uh Vincent- is he related to any other Barrens?”

“No,” Nicole said, her mind racing to thoughts of her sister. Her sister’s kidnapping. Her sister’s death. “Absolutely none at all.”

The officer raised a bushy eyebrow at the answer, meeting Nicole’s eyes with his own pale and lifeless ones. “You’re sure, Ma’am? Not’in’ on the subject’s paternal side?”

“No,” she snapped. The room fell hushed and silent with the buzzing of the room’s lighting was the only exception. Nicole cleared her throat and moved back towards her chair, flashing a toothy grin. She was just a simple single mother; she couldn’t hurt a fly.

“Has the subject had any alleged friends growing up?”

“Yes.”

“Well that’s a first,” the man mumbled under his breath. He flipped the paper over on his clipboard and clicked his pen a number of times. “Well then, let’s move on to stage two.”

Nicole was equally disappointed and relieved when they all but kicked her out at the end of the interrogation. She wanted to be as far away as possible from all the guards she had met, yet she still wanted to instigate. She wanted to see every nook and cranny. She wanted to figure out how everything worked. Now that she knew her son was alive, she’d do everything in her power to keep it that way.

She took a walk into the nearest city; if she kept moving, she’d be able to think more clearly. A gentle breeze and the smell of bus fumes surrounded her and sent a small paper rectangle floating past her. She reached out and grabbed it with the tips of her fingers. It was a business card for a therapist’s office a few cities over. It was nowhere near the police officer she had just left, making it somewhat suspicious to find it floating in the breeze. Nicole scanned the card one more time before pocketing it and continuing her walk as she wondered if she could find an ally in Dr. Emile Picani.


	8. Chapter 8

“I’ll see you next week, Elliot?” Picani asked, twirling his pen between his fingers.

“Yeah,” Elliot mumbled as they rose from the couch. “See ya real soon.”

Picani smiled at the blatant Disney reference and turned back to his clipboard as Elliot left. He sat in still silence with only the ticking of a clock moments before a tall man entered the office. He wasn’t a patient, Dr. Picani wouldn’t have any other patients for another twenty minutes, but Emile smiled when he saw him. “Hello, Remy.”

“Hey, Babe,” Remy said, placing a kiss on Emile’s forehead. “I brought you a chai tea.”

“My favorite.”

“You’re _my_ favorite,” Remy said with a smile as he relaxed into the couch.

Picani smiled both at his partner and at the tea, but he couldn’t stop his mind from going right to where Remy had been. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

“Okay? Yes,” Remy said. “But do I think he’ll be cozying up to us anytime soon? Definitely not.”

Picani sighed, drumming his fingers against the side of his cup. “He’s a sweet kid. Reminds me a bit of my last patient.”

“Em, you know there’s a strict ‘no psychoanalyzing our friends in the bunker’ rule,” Remy teased. “Logan will have your head.”

“I know, I know,” Emile said. “I just wish I could help.”

“After your last patients, we can go to the bunker and check in on them, all right?” Remy offered. “We can watch your favorite movie.”

Emile smiled at Remy as he took another sip of his tea. “What would I do without you?”

“Probably still be looking for your hot ass soulmate,” he replied with a wink.

“My soulmate is lukewarm at best.”

Remy put his hand to his chest with a dramatic gasp that could rival Roman’s. “How dare you!”

Emile laughed, glancing at the clock. “My next patient is coming in soon. You should probably head out.”

**+++**

After three days, Virgil had finally left his room during what he assumed was daytime. His brown hair was nearly black from the lack of showering and he had lost the color in his face. “Salutations, Virgil,” Logan said, reaching out to grab the younger boy’s arm. “Are you doing alright?” he whispered.

“I’m fine,” Virgil mumbled, fidgeting with the pen in his hand. He hadn’t stopped writing letters since his fight with Patton. “Just a bit hungry.”

Patton glanced up at him from the kitchen table, opening his mouth to speak, but silencing himself at the last minute.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten anything?” Roman asked, voicing the thought that all three of them shared.

Virgil was quiet, his mind racing as he tried to replay days worth of events. “What day is it?” he asked quietly.

“Okay that’s it,” Roman said, grabbing Virgil by the shoulders and holding onto him protectively. “Patton and Logan, go cook this kid the best damn meal he’s ever had in his life, I’ll try to find him some clean clothes while he showers all that grease and pity off of him.”

“I can hear you, you know.”

“Good. Face that fact that you smell atrocious.”

Virgil rolled his eyes but followed Roman down an echoey hall as Patton and Logan made their way to the kitchen. What if Patton told Logan about their fight? What if he made Logan hate him? _What if Logan told Patton about the panic attack?! What if? What if? What if?!_

“Hey, calm down, you’re okay,” Roman whispered. “You’re a bit jumpy,” he said, “it’s the hunger trying to catch up to you. Your brain is running on empty. You won’t think clearly until you eat.”

“Understood,” Virgil mumbled tiredly in response. God, when was the last time he had a cup of coffee?

Roman turned a knob next to the bathtub faucet and let the water warm slightly before plugging the drain. He poured a lavender scented mixture into the water, watching them foam and bubble, before opening a cabinet and handing Virgil what appeared to be a freshly folded towel. “It may look like the apocalypse around here,” he said, “but we try to live in a bit more luxury than that.”

“Got it,” Virgil said through a forced laugh.

“I think some of Logan’s old clothes may fit,” Roman said. “You can leave these clothes outside the door and I’ll have them cleaned up for you. Here, I’ll take your jacket.”

Virgil froze, pulling the jacket closer over himself. “My hoodie?” he asked quietly.

“It’s an article of clothing, isn’t it?”

“Well yeah, but,” Virgil trailed off with a sigh. “It’s important to me.”

Roman put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder and looked to him with a friendly smile. “I’ll have it ready for you as soon as you’re dressed, okay?”

Virgil let out a deep breath, taking off the jacket and laying it in Roman’s open arms. “Don’t let anything bad happen to it, okay?”

“It’s safe with us,” Roman said. “I promise.”

Virgil saw the sincerity in Roman’s face and smiled back in return. It was nice to see someone care for him without worry or pity, but he wouldn’t let his guard down just yet. He tried to strip quickly, as he could hear Roman waiting outside the door. He wondered if he had found another true ally.

**+++**

“I’m just worried that I did something wrong,” Patton admitted with a sigh as he chopped up tomatoes.

“Patton, you have to remember what it was like being his age,” Logan said. “Or at least what Roman was like at his age.”

Patton chuckled lightly. “Yeah, I guess so. Though I doubt he’s half as reckless as Roman was at that age. He’s just scared, confused, and lost.” He put the chopped tomatoes into a bowl and moved towards the sink to wash the knife. “I just wish I could help him.”

“You will,” Logan said. “He isn’t necessarily looking for friends yet, just… a place. Figuring out where he fits in all of this. He’ll come to you in time.”

“Do you guys know where Remy is?” Roman asked, passing through the kitchen with a half-full laundry basket pressed against his hip.

“He’s out with Emile, last I heard,” Patton said.

“Great,” Roman said with a smile. “I need him to run a few errands for me.”

“Oh no,” Logan teased, rolling his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re-“

“Yes!” Roman hissed, spinning around on his heel to face Logan with a devious grin. “Now go say goodbye to your old shirts, they’re the kid’s now.”

“Why don’t you ever give away your clothes to your ‘Projects’?” Logan asked.

“Why do you only give me scrawny kids?” Roman retorted with a smirk.

“Roman, play nice.”

“No promises.”

Logan and Patton exchanged a glance and rolled their eyes as Roman scurried away. “God have mercy on that poor kid.”

**+++**

Virgil had finally gotten dressed in a pair of old ripped jeans that he guessed were Roman’s, and purple plaid shirt that had a letter L stained into the tag. Definitely Logan’s, but from how long ago? It was snug even on Virgil’s thin frame and it had wrinkles from fold marks.

“Oh, perfect timing,” Roman said when he saw Virgil in the hallway. He handed the folded black hoodie to Virgil; it was still warm from the dryer.

“Thank you,” Virgil said as he wrapped himself in the old fabric’s warmth.

“Of course,” he said, nodding his head in a silent command for the younger to follow him. “We all want you to feel comfortable here, okay?”

Virgil nodded, his heart sinking into his empty stomach as he followed Roman into the dining room. He knew he had some apologizing to do.

“You look clean,” Logan said glancing between Virgil and Roman with a soft smile.

“Oh, uh, thank you.” His eyes fell to Patton who was cleaning up by the sink, his head tilted up as if he were listening but afraid of intrusion. “Do you guys mind if Patton and I have a moment, uh, alone?”

Logan gave Virgil a reassuring pat on the back saying, “Take all of the time you require,” before taking Roman’s arm and walking away.

“I made you some pasta,” Patton said, drying his hands and gesturing to a covered bowl on the counter. “Kept it nice and warm for you.”

“Thanks, but, we need to talk.”

Patton shook his head. “Take a seat,” he said. “I need to make sure you’ve eaten.”

“What? Is it poisoned?” Virgil teased.

“Kiddo-“

“I know you don’t want to kill me. Don’t worry.” Virgil took a seat and gently uncovered the bowl that Patton had placed in front of him. They sat on opposite ends of the table, and Patton only seemed to relax after Virgil had eaten a few bites. “I’m sorry for lashing out at you,” he said. “I was just tired, and worked up, and-“

“You were scared.”

“Yeah,” he said, “but that doesn’t excuse what I said. An excuse isn’t an apology, and I really am sorry.”

They sat in silence for a moment as Virgil’s face dropped, his eyes glued to the fork in his hand as he mindlessly twirled pasta.

“You’re leaving somethings unsaid,” Patton said, and Virgil began to wonder if the man in front of him were a mind reader. “That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me your sob story.” He took Virgil’s hand in his own. “You’re shaking like a leaf, poor thing. Virgil, I accept your apology.”

Virgil sat quietly, letting the fork rest against the side of the bowl. “Do you…I mean…should we hug? Is that what we’re supposed to do?”

Patton looked to him with a cocked head and a raised eyebrow, but nothing about him looked judgemental. He looked soft and sincere. “Would you like to?”

Virgil kept his eyes on the ground. “A little.” He saw Patton stood and assumed that the conversation was over, that he had taken things too far. Maybe he had ruined everything all over again. But when a pair of warm arms wrapped around him and held to him tightly, Virgil knew he was forgiven. He held onto Patton’s arms and let everything else wash away.


	9. Chapter 9

It was a rough adjustment, but Virgil was starting to feel like part of the group after a while. He fell into the pattern of helping Patton with the dishes, learning the textbook answers of what they do from Logan, and physical training with Roman- just in case. One of their bases had been raided before; they’d be prepared if it ever happened again.

Virgil ran faster and faster until his knees were weak and his chest was aching. He pulled the emergency stop on the treadmill, falling to his knees and feeling his head tingle and grow numb as his breaths became more and more shallow. Roman knelt down at his side, rubbing circles across Virgil’s back. “Deep breaths,” he said, “hyperventilating will just make sure you run out of oxygen faster. It’s going to hurt for a bit but just breath deep and slow.” He kept rubbing Virgil’s back as the younger tried to take deep breaths- coughing frequently at first but slowly getting the hang of it. Virgil fell into Roman’s side, slightly confused when he didn’t protest, but feeling safe with him there. “You’re doing so good,” Roman said. “Why don’t we take a break for a while?”

“No,” Virgil whined, his voice weak from coughing. “If I’m staying here, I need to be useful to you guys.”

Roman raised his eyebrow, tilting his head to make eye contact with Virgil. “How do you define ‘useful’ to us?”

“Ready to fight, I guess? Worth more than just laying around stealing your food.”

“Do you think Logan is useless then?”

“What?” Virgil asked, his eyes wide and jaw hung open slightly.

“Logan isn’t training,” Roman said, “he isn’t going out and getting us supplies like Remy or Patton. He doesn’t make money for us like Picani. Is he useless?”

“No, of course, he isn’t! He-“

“Then you aren’t useless for having an asthma attack.”

“I don’t have asthma,” Virgil said, his eyebrows knitting together.

“Bronchospasms, fine, whatever,” Roman said, “but I know what I saw.” His eyes brushed over to a locked medicine cabinet. “I know what I saw.”

_“Getting chilly, huh?” Roman asked, smiling as he rubbed his arms in an attempt to warm up.  
_

_“Unfortunately,” Patton said with a sniffle and a shy smile._

_Roman opened up his arms and let Patton bury himself into his chest. “I’ll keep you warm,” Roman teased, “that’s what fake soulmates are for, right?”_

_“Mmhmm,” Patton mumbled._

_“My mom isn’t really thrilled,” Roman said with a forced laugh, “but she’ll give me the parental consent. She’s never liked tattoos much, but she wants to keep me safe.”_

_“I’m scared, Roman,” Patton admitted, pressing his ear against Roman’s heart and tightening his grip on the other’s torso._

_“It’s gonna hurt a little, yeah, but I’ll be next to you the whole time, okay? I’ll even kiss it better for you.”_

_Patton glanced down to his own bare wrist before squeezing his eyes tight and fighting back the tears he’d been holding in for about a month now. “That’s not why I’m scared, Roman.”_

_Roman let out a deep breath and pulled Patton closer to himself. “No one is going to catch us. I promise you that.”_

_“But what if-“_

_“Nothing is going to happen to you, Patton. I would never let anyone touch you, even if it kills me. So, please, just let me be your knight in shining armor. Even just for tonight.”_

_Roman could feel the tears soaking through his shirt as Patton nodded. “You’re a good fake soulmate.”_

_“So are you, my dear, so are you.”_

“I told Virgil to take the rest of the day off,” Roman explained as he tied an apron around his waist. “Hope you don’t mind if I help instead.”

“How’s he adjusting?” Patton asked.

“He seems to be doing fine. He just got a little sore after our workout,” Roman lied. He didn’t want to worry Patton too much.

“Thanks for helping him,” Patton said.

“If it helps you, it’s no trouble at all,” Roman flirted. Patton couldn’t help but to laugh and roll his eyes. “Any update on how Logan is doing?”

“I’m doing fine,” Logan said. Roman whipped around and saw him resting against a cane with a small smile on his face.

“Logan!” Roman yelled as he carefully pulled the injured man into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I’m… happy to be up again,” he replied. “I can’t thank Patton enough.”

Roman’s hand trailed down Logan’s arm, his thumb rubbing over Logan’s tattoo. “As long as you’re alive, none of us can.”

“Your sentiment is… _appreciated_ , certainly, but my injuries weren’t fatal.”

A strange feeling tugged at Roman’s chest. “I… I know but…” He took a deep breath and forced a smile as he pulled away from Logan. The feeling in his chest tugged even harder. “I’m just… happy that you’re back.”

_Patton ran through the snow as fast as he could. He remembered his father’s last words to him. “If anything goes wrong, run as far as possible and get to your safest place. This is only a resting stop. You must keep running.” His father had been arrested only 2 years prior. His step-parents always told him that when push comes to shove to put himself first. None of them were Barren- if they were arrested, they wouldn’t die; if Patton were arrested, he’d be killed without a second thought._

_He ran to where Roman should have been. He ran to the only shelter he may ever know. He knocked frantically at the door, freezing when he heard all noise from inside the house stop at a halt._

_“Hello?” he asked quietly. “Is anyone in there?”_

_Everything fell to a hush and Patton felt the cold biting at his face and arms. If nothing else, the cold would surely kill him. The door creaked open slowly and a hand reached out to grab his arm. He was roughly pulled into the house. The old man inside looked him over and let out a sigh, breathing warm air onto Patton’s face._

_“Patton, dear, what are you doing here?” the old woman asked._

_“I’m- I’m looking for Roman,” he said, every word feeling harsh against his throat and lungs but hardly coming out in a whisper. He let out a string of coughs, his upper back tensing and cramping as he did so._

_“Oh, sweetie, you need something to warm up. I’ll make you some hot cocoa.” The old woman pressed a kiss to the top of Patton’s head before disappearing down the hall leading towards the kitchen._

_“Mr. Noble,” Patton croaked, tapping the old man’s arm. “Where’s Roman? I need to speak to him; it’s rather urgent.”_

_“Roman left about an hour ago,” the man said. “He went searching for_ you _.”_

_Patton took a sharp inhale only to end up coughing again. The old man gently patted his back. “He told us something happened and you were too important to leave behind.”_

_“But- I- I came here to-“_

_“Shh,” the old man said. “You’re shaking like a leaf. Let us take care of you; Roman will be back here tonight. As soon as someone tells him you’re gone, he’ll know exactly where you are.”_

_“How can you be so sure?”_

_The old man laughed, patting Patton’s back almost a little too roughly. “I know my grandson. He can take care of himself with enough time to come back to his grandma’s dinner.”_

“So how’s your, uh, side doing?” Roman asked. Dinner only had to sit in the oven by itself for a while, so he took the chance to sit down for a bit. The tugging feeling in his chest was pulling him in two different directions, but he chose the path that leads to Logan.

“As long as I can walk again, I’d consider it to be healing well.” Though his words were serious, his tone was lighthearted and he smiled. His smile was certainly contagious.

“It’s nice to see you smile,” Roman said absentmindedly.

“Well, th- thank you,” Logan said, a blush spreading across his face.

“You don’t smile much lately. I wish we could see it more.”

“There’s not much to smile about,” Logan said, suddenly more hardened and serious. He looked like a different person than he had been two seconds ago.

“I’d…” _like to change that for you. I’d like to_ make _you smile._ “I’m sorry, Logan.”

“You don’t need to be sorry for anything, Roman,” Logan said. “All that matters is staying alive.”

“What’s the purpose of survival if you never get to truly live?” Roman asked.

“What?”

“If you fight to live each day are you ever truly living? Logan, there’s more to life than just breathing and surviving! How can you live with- without _love_ or happiness?!”

“Roman, I’m fine-“

“But you deserve _better_ than fine!” Roman yelled. His heart was racing and he couldn’t help but notice the small blush on Logan’s face. If he couldn’t explain that Logan deserved more, he’d just have to prove it.

He surged forward, letting his hands twist through Logan’s hair as their lips met. He moved quickly and passionately; a fire burned in his chest as he pulled himself as close to Logan as physically possible.

Logan let out a pained whine and Roman quickly pulled away, finding himself hovering just above the other. He looked beautiful, really, with flush skin and kiss-swollen lips surrounded by messy hair that was usually so pristine. But Roman didn’t have time to appreciate his beauty. He scrambled off of the couch while yelling an apology too quick for anyone to understand and he ran off too fast for anyone to catch.

_Roman ran into his grandparents’ house with a large backpack weighing him down. “Is he here?” he asked frantically. “Is Patton here?”_

_“Shh,” Mrs. Noble whispered. “He’s asleep on the couch. The poor boy is horribly frightened.”_

_“Of course he is!” Roman said, not realizing that he had snapped. “I mean- He- He lost his father and his only allies. The cops are after him. We need to get him somewhere safe.”_

_“He can stay with us,” Mr. Noble said. “We don’t mind another grandson.”_

_Roman peered around a wall to see Patton huddled under a pile of blankets. It would likely be the last time he’d be able to sleep so soundly._

_“He can’t do that,” murmured Roman, his voice small and heartbroken. “We need to get out of town.” He adjusted his bag and pulled his grandparents into a tight hug. “I’m going to miss you both so much. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. For Patton.”_

_“You two shouldn’t have to do this alone.”_

_Roman glanced down at his wrist, tracing his fingers over healing ink. “No. Not alone.” He glanced up at them with a smile. “Patton will be awake soon, and we’ll be gone just as quickly. I love you both.”_

_“We love you too, Roman,” Mrs. Noble said. “But What was ever so important that you had to run off for it?”_

_Roman slid his bag off of his shoulders and fumbled around with one of the pockets. He pulled out a cardboard box and removed a red device from inside of it. “Patton’s inhaler,” Roman said. “He tends to forget it, but…”_

_“You care about him.”_

_“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”_

When Virgil found him, he had been back in the training room. Metal crashed loudly as he recklessly pushed himself further and further.

“Roman?” Virgil asked. “We were training earlier, shouldn’t you be resting?”

“No, no,” Roman said, dropping the bench press bad back into its stand and sliding out from under it. “ _You_ should be resting. You’re the one who had an asthma attack.”

“Fine, fine, so I’ll just tell Patton that you’re overworking yourself then?” Virgil asked, smirking at the crude gesture Roman had replied with.

“I… I kissed him,” Roman said.

“Who? Patton?”

“No,” he groaned into his hands.

“Shit, is it Remy?” Virgil asked. “Because if so, I’m going to need the fifty dollars that I owe Emile.”

“What? No- What?” Roman sat up, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat off of his face. “Are you in the mood for a makeover? Because you have a mullet right now and it looks like shit.”

“Excuse you.”

“Come one, let’s get you looking presentable and I’ll explain everything.”

**+++**

“I think you need a buzzcut.”

“I think _you_ need to be open about your feelings.”

“Touché.”

Virgil fidgeted in his seat, twisting his wrists in an attempt to sit still. He felt a cold liquid hit his scalp and slowly begin to burn. “What are you doing?”

“Just adding some dye, don’t worry,” Roman said. He pulled on a pair of gloves and massaged the substance onto the top of Virgil’s head, working it in slowly. “So I, well, there’s these two guys.”

“Patton and who else?”

“Shush. They’re totally anonymous guys that you _don’t know._ ”

Virgil chuckled to himself. “Sure thing, Prince Charming.”

“Why thank you,” Roman seethed, smearing dye on Virgil’s forehead with a smirk. “One of them is… someone I grew up with. I know him like the palm of my hand and I can’t even say _when_ I fell in love with him because loving him just feels _natural_.“

“Sap.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Roman glared down at Virgil before grabbing foil to wrap the dyed hair in. “But with Lo- The _other anonymous guy-”_

“Smooth.”

“Watch it, I have scissors and I’m not afraid to use them.”

“Carry on.”

“With him, love feels… _exciting!_ My beats faster and everything feels like an _adventure!”_

“So you’re really fucking gay for both of them.”

“Precisely.”

“So you’re polyamorous. Just tell them that and best case scenario you have two _anonymous_ boyfriends.”

“I’m… what?”

“I mean, you might be. Obviously, I can’t sort out all of your feelings for you, but it’s something to think about.”

“Oh,” Roman said, trying to calm his shaking hand and beating heart. “Okay.” He continued to work in silence, never speaking until the final reveal nearly an hour later.

“Ahem!” He dramatically cleared his throat. “Now introducing, the new _and improved_ Virgil Bianchi!”

Virgil walked into the kitchen, his old black jacket now patched up with pieces of Logan’s old shirt. His hair was shaved on the sides and a mop of purple hung down to his eyes, just out of the way of his slit eyebrow.

“Virgil, you look,” Logan’s jaw hung slightly open as he spoke, “very nice.”

Patton squealed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You look so _cool!”_

“You look like you got eaten up and shit out by a Hot Topic.”

“Fuck off, Remy.”

“OOOOOOOH!” The room cheered, watching Virgil’s shit-eating grin expand across his face.

“I think we found your new rival, coffee bean,” Emile said with a smile, squeezing on Remy’s hand. Remy looked over at Emile, returning to squeeze and focusing on Emile’s eyes. He never made eye contact.

Logan, Roman, and Patton hadn’t seemed to notice. Logan and Patton were busy complimenting Virgil; Roman was busy with his thoughts. But Remy knew when Emile was upset.

Something was wrong.


	10. Chapter 0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Emile found his soulmate

Remy slipped out of the alleyway as he breathed in the polluted air. He popped the collar of his leather jacket, hiding an array of hickies that lined his neck and collar bone. It was a long night and the perfect way to end his stay in this city with a bang- in more ways than one.

Police sirens rang through the air and Remy was quick to fall into the usual drill. Sleeves up and sunglasses down; show off your soulmark but never your face. For someone Remy had never met, his soulmate sure had saved his ass plenty of times.

He hid behind a crowd as police cars drove by. He pitied the poor bastard that they were after but mostly just felt relieved that he hadn’t been caught. He dove into his favorite coffee shop, a sketchy place on the tougher side of town, and claimed sanctuary when he ordered a plain back coffee “for Remus.”

“That’s an interesting name,” a customer behind him noted. The man was rather short, drowning in an oversized cardigan, with his face almost hidden behind his bangs. Remy decided to give in and amuse that guy.

“Not since Harry Potter, it isn’t, Kid.”

The man blinked owlishly in response, his fingers rubbing up and down the fabric of his sleeves. “O- Oh, yeah, I… I guess so.” He took a deep breath and glanced down to his wrist before looking back up. “Is there anything short for it?”

“Whatcha gettin’ at, Kid?”

“Black coffee for Remus,” the barista called.

“Right thank you.”

The customer cleared his throat just as Remy was about to walk away. “My name is Dr. Emile Picani,” he said. “I think I’m your soulmate.”

Remy looked up and down at Emile before reading the name written in perfect script on his wrist. “Okay,” he mumbled into a sip of coffee. Without another word, he was gone.

Remy didn’t _do_ soulmates. Some people didn’t believe in the idea of “magic” or “the universe” or whichever deity tying people together with “strings of fate.” Remy just didn’t care. He was never much into the idea of romance. Growing up his was told that finding his soulmate would be “a magical experience” and that “everything will make sense and you’ll finally feel whole.”

Perhaps that ideology would work for someone who felt broken to begin with. Remy knew he wasn’t broken; he was aromantic.

He didn’t need a soulmate to feel whole or loved. The only thing he needed a soulmate for was not getting murdered. He silently toyed with the idea of going back into that coffee shop and thanking Emile for allowing him to not be publicly executed. Hilarious as it would be, Remy decided he was fine not to see his soulmate ever again.

Emile had other ideas.

His feet pounded against the pavement as he dodged through the crowd quickly mumbling apologies to those around him. “REMY!” he yelled. “REMY- Oops, Sorry ma’am- REMY! REMUS! GET BACK HE- Excuse me- GET BACK HERE.”

Remy turned around, quickly grabbing Emile and slamming a hand over his mouth. “Are you trying to get me fucking arrested?” The two dipped into an alley as the crowd began to look for the wanted criminal.

“Mmhhmmph,” Emile mumbled.

“Listen, Kid, I’m sure your sweet but I’m not looking for a soulmate,” Remy seethed. “I can give you a ‘fun night’ but that’s it. I can’t spend one more day in this hell hole.”

Emile mumbled something against Remy’s hand. “Right, sorry.”

“I don’t want to do _that_ with _you_ ,” Emile said. “No offense.”

“Perfect! I don’t want anything to do with you and you don’t want to do anything with me so, now we can _both_ be on our merry ways and never see each other ever again.” Remy dropped his hold on Emile and was perfectly content to leave again. For the _last time._

“Wait!”

“Why do you insist on dragging this out?”

“I just,” Emile mumbled uncertainly, “I’ve waited so long to meet my soulmate and not feel… broken.”

Remy looked up and down at the man in front of him. He was tired, annoyed, and clearly losing his sanity because he actually felt pity for him. “Fine.” Emile’s face lit up with joy. “ _But_ we’re getting out of this shitty town.”

Emile began to argue but shut his mouth and simply nodded, following Remy in silence all the way to the subway station. The subway was crowded and smelt like mold, but Emile didn’t mind. He’d finally met his soulmate. He was finally going to be alright. 

They got off in a quieter city. It was darker and somewhat more polluted, but it had more privacy. Emile didn’t know if this was a pro or a con.

“So… who are you? Who is Emile?” Remy asked with a slight grin.

“Oh, well, I like cartoons.” Remy snorted. “I, uh, I’m trying to start my own practice.”

“Practice?”

“I’m a therapist,” Emile said.

“Duly noted.”

“How about you?” he asked. “What do you do?”

“Run from the law and get laid,” Remy deadpanned.

“O-Oh.”

“I used to be an artist, though. Latte Art, which is a perfectly valid form in and of itself, but you don’t want to hear my sob story.”

“But I do!” Emile begged. “I want to know as much about you as possible.”

He studied Remy’s face for a moment, both caught in the awkward silence. “I’m sorry,” Emile mumbled.

“Don’t be I was just… caught off guard.”

They continued to talk for a few hours as they strolled along through the city. The grim darkness of it all seemed less scary with Remy by Emile’s side. He felt connected to Remy, the way soulmates always talked about, but he didn’t feel love. Why? He had always been told stories of love at first sight and feeling sparks and fireworks around your soulmate. Why didn’t he feel that? What was wrong with him?

“It’s getting late,” Remy commented as the sky around them turned black like wet paint spilling onto a canvas. “Em?”

Emile snapped his head up and forced on a smile. “Sorry, I got… distracted.”

“By what?”

“I… I just…” Emile took a deep breath and folded his hands in his lap. “Why aren’t I in love with you yet?!” he blurted out.

Remy blinked, slightly taken aback. “What?”

“I just- I spent so many years being told I- I’d meet you and fall in love and- WHY? Why haven’t I? Why am I _broken?!”_

“Emile,” Remy whispered softly. “We’re not… /romantic/ soulmates. I don’t think we can be.”

“…What?”

Remy dug his phone out of his pocket and pulled up a Google search before handing the phone to Emile. “I’m aromantic. I don’t _have_ a romantic soulmate. I have you.” Emile’s eyes scanned the screen over and over. “I’m not saying _you_ are, but if you’re not ‘magically in love’ with me, it’s because you aren’t supposed to be.”

“I… I never knew this was… okay.”

“Em?”

“I think… this is me.”

Remy took the phone back but saw the wide look in Emile’s eyes. “You’ve had a long day, you should head home.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

Remy took a business card out of his pocket and folded Emile’s hand around it. “I think you will,” he said with a wink before walking away into the shadows.

And they did. Again. And again. And again.

They got into a stable routine of talking and hanging out. It was a few months before Remy explained QPRs and they had officially become partners. Remy had moved in with Emile (when he wasn’t out of town) and life had finally seemed to calm down for the two of them.

Every high has a comedown.

“These boys need help, Remy,” Emile said, holding onto Patton and Roman’s shoulders.

“I know. I have a few _friends_ that can help,” Remy said. “Boys, come with me. Em,” he took a pause, “you need to go back home.”

“What? No. I’m coming with you.”

“Em. It’s not safe. This isn’t negotiable.”

“None of this is safe!” Emile yelled. “And I’m not giving up now.”

“If you give us the directions, we can go by ourselves,” Roman said.

“NO,” Remy and Emile shouted in unison.

“Remy. We’re soulmates- we’re _partners!_ Why don’t you trust me enough to do this with you?”

Remy took a deep breath and a step forward. Roman and Patton took a step back. He cupped his face around Emile’s cheek and pressed their foreheads together. “Emile, I trust you more than anyone else in the world. I love you, but it’s _because_ I love you, that I have to take precautions here. If something bad happens to me, I can’t let it happen to you.”

“And if something bad happened to _you_ , I could never forgive myself,” Emile whispered. “ _Especially,_ if I could have been there to stop it.”

“Are you really ready to risk putting your life in more danger because of me?”

“For you? A million times and more.”

“Get a room,” Roman muttered, causing Patton to giggle under his breath.

Remy rolled his eyes and made a show of dangling his car keys above his head. “Come on, we have some Barrens to save.”


	11. Act Two

The storm was raging outside with a chaotic symphony of wind chimes and crashes of thunder. It was far too noisy to fall asleep at this point. There was a knock at the door and Kai crept slowly down the stairs. He glanced at a digital clock, squinting his eyes as they adjusted to the light. 2:47am. Who the hell would be here so late? He armed himself with a baseball bat and yanked the door open, ready to start swinging.

With a flash of lighting, he dropped his bat. “Elliot?”

They stood shaking and soaked in the rain, streaks of makeup filled tears ran down their cheeks. “Kai,” they croaked our hoarsely, “I’m fucked.”

**—-**

No one had seen Elliot for weeks. They’d been at their great uncle’s funeral, or they would have if he actually existed. They knew lying was wrong, but they also knew their existence was worse.

As they dodged bodies in the hall, their eyes kept drifting to their arm. It was the first time in sixteen years that they didn’t need to hide their wrist. It felt like being naked. They felt someone grip their arm and pull them aside. They were both in an empty classroom. Their “captor” kicked the door closed.

“What the hell is that?” Mitchell seethed, his blue eyes glaring down at the name written on Elliot’s skin. He was a few inches taller than Elliot with messy red hair. Usually, Elliot found him attractive and strong; now they only saw him as terrifying.

“It’s my soulmark.”

“Your soulmark,” Mitchell repeated, his words were like venom. “You chose my name.”

“Yeah,” they mumbled quietly, wanting to sink out of the room. “I just… since I’m your soulmate, I wanted you to be mine.”

“YOU- You think you’re my soulmate?” Mitchell laughed. He pushed Elliot against the wall and kept his arm against their throat. “You’re a _freak_ , Elliot.”

Elliot tried to speak out but couldn’t get their air out of their lungs. Tears welled in their eyes and they wondered when Mitchell had become so cruel.

“Stay away from me.”

He left them there, fallen to the ground and gasping for air.

They saw the greatest thing about hitting rock bottom is that you can only go up. Unfortunately, fate had a shovel and plans to send Elliot six feet under.

The week got worse.

“Local police have upgraded the case for Virgil Bianchi to a nationwide search.” Kai picked up the remote, turning up the volume on the television. The sound was filled with static and the image just looked awful. It showed a picture of a smiling teenager and his mother. “He is believed to be armed and dangerous. If you have any information on where to find this criminal, it is imperative that you call.”

“I hope those asshats never catch that guy,” Kai said. The two friends were hanging out in Kai’s bedroom, venting and complaining about the world.

“Why?” Elliot asked. “He’s dangerous.”

“He’s fucking 18.”

“Yeah, but-”

“He’s done nothing wrong and the police keep terrorizing even _more innocent civilians_ over this. It’s bullshit, El,” he said, almost shaking with anger. “My mom’s friend almost got arrested over an ‘in memoriam’ tattoo.”

“They’re going into tattoo shops?”

Elliot looked down to the tattoo on their wrist, and it wasn’t long before Kai’s gaze followed. Elliot should have packed up and left as soon as possible.

Sometimes mistakes can cost a life- and sometimes that life is your own.

It was not even two weeks later when Elliot’s life got caught up in a tornado of shit. Thunder crashed from many miles away. “Elliot, sweetie, you need to leave.”

“What? Mom, what’s going on?”

“The police are on their way. You need to be far away when they get here.” Thunder roared louder and closer. The windows glowed with a flash of lightning. “Run far away and never return.”

So they did. They dumped their backpack onto their bedsheets, letting pens and highlighters roll onto the floor. They shoved clothes in the bag with cash stuffed into the pockets of jeans and jackets. They grabbed everything they could and ran out through the back door.

They cried and held back screams and tried to hide in the shadows. They had always wanted to disappear, but now that disappearing was a reality they realized it was a fool’s wish.

“Kai,” they said, rain-soaked clothes sticking to their skin, “I’m fucked.”

“What the fuck happened?” Kai asked, pulling them inside.

“I- My parents- The cops called and they kicked me out,” Elliot said. They looked up at Kai, their eyes red and stained with fear. “I don’t want to die.”

“I’m- I’m not going to let that happen,” Kai said. “I won’t let them touch you.”

“Kai, I’m scared,” Elliot whispered. Their voice was still shaky as tears began to fall again.

“I won’t let them kill you,” Kai said. “I’ll find you, Elliot.”

“Don’t- Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Kai grabbed Elliot’s hands and stared into their eyes. “You’re my best friend, El,” he said. “And I’m damn well going to keep this promise.”

There was a pounding at the front door and they both knew exactly who waited on the other side. “Now go,” he said, “ _hide.”_


	12. Chapter 12

“Babe,” Remy whispered to Emile as the rest of the group continued to gawk over Virgil. “Is everything okay?”

“I, uh, saw someone at work,” he slowly whispered, eyes locked on Virgil. “I don’t think she’s looking for a therapist.”

“Did she hurt you?” Emile didn’t move. “Emile,” Remy raised his voice slightly but still made sure no one else could hear, “did she hurt you?”

“Hm?” Emile blinked back to reality. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m just… contemplating something.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Remy said. “But I’ll be here for you if ever decide to.”

Emile squeezed his hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I know, my dear. Thank you.”

It has been a week. Virgil seemed more adjusted and comfortable which was great! Emile was happy for him, but he couldn’t help but worry that if he told Virgil what he knew, he’d be gone all over again.

Patton and Remy had come back from the city, each holding bags of produce. They were smiling and laughing which was a good contrast to the fears in Emile’s head as he worriedly cut up old fruit.

“Hey, babe,” Remy greeted, pressing a quick kiss to Emile’s cheek. He put the bag down on the counter and silently asked Patton to give them some space. (He put the bag down and gave Remy a supportive thumb up before complying.)

“Hello,” Emile said with a soft smile but worry in his eyes.

“Em, please, look at me,” Remy said as he placed his hand on Emile’s cheek. Emile let go of the knife and melted into the touch. “Whatever you’re hiding is clearly killing you.” He stayed silent. “Emi, please, I can’t stand to see you like this.”

Emile shut his eyes tight the way he always did when he was trying not to cry. “I met a woman at work the other day.” His eyes scanned the room and he lowered his voice. No one could be allowed to hear what he was saying. “She was looking for Virgil.”

“But he said that-“

“His mother,” Emile whispered, eyes falling from his face. “And I don’t know what to do.”

“He deserves to know,” Remy said, “but you don’t want to jeopardize what he has here.”

“Keep this is killing me,” Emile said. “But seeing him go might feel worse.”

“I hate to intrude,” Logan said from the doorway causing Emile to jump in alarm and Remy to step in front of him protectively. “There’s a new case. I want you two to come and take a look at this.”

Remy and Emile exchanged a glance. They clasped hands and followed Logan down the corridor. “And boys,” Logan said quietly, “whatever you’re conspiring about, I suggest it come to an end. We already have a lot on our plates right now.”

“Conspiring? Lolo, babe, we don’t- that’s your ‘Remy, shut the fuck up’ face, isn’t it?”

Logan made a show of clapping and saying, “Good Boy.” Remy returned with his own gesture.

“I don’t know what you two are up to- I don’t want to- but stop it.”

Emile nodded silently, squeezing Remy’s hand. Roman, Virgil, and Patton hovered around a computer and Emile could see Virgil absentmindedly chewing at one of his hoodie strings.

“Just made an arrest last night,” Patton said. “The execution is Sunday morning.”

“It’s only Tuesday,” Roman muttered. “They never wait this long.”

“But that’s good, isn’t it?” Virgil asked. “It gives you guys more time.”

“Not just ‘you guys’,” Logan said under his breath. Everyone stopped to look at him. “Did any of you actually expect me to work this mission?”

“Of course not,” Patton said softly through the silence.  
“But Virgil?” He placed his hands on Virgil’s shoulders. “He’s just a kid, Logan.”

“Excuse me?”

“Patton, he’s perfectly capable of being my replacement.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“I don’t care if he’s capable! It’s not right!”

“I’ve been training for months now!”

“Patton, I don’t see what to issue is here. He is perfectly willing to do so.”

“Okay, ‘willing’ is an overstatement.”

“Guys, let him have his own choice here!”

“ENOUGH!” Emile screamed, with fists clenched and tears beginning to form in his eyes. The whole room stopped spinning. “Just… stop yelling at each other. Please.”

“Virgil,” Remy said slowly, “if you _want_ to go, I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“Remy-,” Logan started.

“But it’s _his choice,”_ he continued. “Just like Roman said.” Roman quirked his lips for a second in what could almost be considered a smile.

Virgil opened his mouth to say something. “You don’t need to make a choice now,” Patton said softly. “I’ll go in your place if I need to.”

“No.”

“Logan.”

“No,” he repeated. “You can’t go, Patton.”

“Logan, you need to stop making decisions for people,” Roman said.

“I’m not making a decision for him,” Logan said through gritted teeth. “There’s no decision to make.”

“Lo, stop,” Remy said. “Stop treating everything as a fight.”

“This isn’t a fight. Patton isn’t going. That’s it.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” Patton asked.

“Because I need you alive!”

“Oh,” Roman muttered to himself, quickly hiding his face behind his hands.

“Roman, I didn’t mean-“ But it was too late. Roman had already flown from the room. “Patton, you aren’t going.”

“Logan, I think you’ve said enough,” Patton said. “You’re not on the case. You don’t get to decide what happens on it.”

“But-“

“Go apologize to Roman,” Patton said, his voice steady but cold. Virgil sunk into his hoodie, seeing Patton angry was almost terrifying.

Logan grabbed his cane and silently walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Remy hadn’t seemed phased but he held tightly onto Emile’s hand- and he looked terrified.

“I’m sorry, guys,” Patton said. “And I’m sorry to you, too, Virgil. Logan is… hard to control.”

Virgil relaxed slightly as Patton brushed his fingers over his hair. He took a deep breath and a slow exhale. “I’ll do the mission.”

“Are you sure?” Patton asked.

“Logan helped me. I want to help someone else,” Virgil said. “I want to be like Logan.”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way,” Remy said. “And Roman might not be a great driver, but he’s got the ‘getaway’ down to an art.”

“So who are we saving?” Emile asked, sitting at a chair and wheeling it to the desk. Virgil opened the file and Emile’s blood ran cold as he saw the photo.

“His name is Elliot-”

“Their,” Emile corrected.

“Emile, do you know this person? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Patton said cautiously.

“They’re a patient. I’ve seen them leave the office.”

“Remy!” Emile scolded. “I, uh, he’s right but he shouldn’t say it.”

“Patton, when’s the latest we can leave?” Virgil asked.

“I’ll have to check some security logs and find a weakness we can use,” he said. “But stay ready. It could be tomorrow or it could be in three days. Stay alert.”

“On it,” Remy and Virgil said in unison. Remy took Emile’s hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles as Patton and Virgil began rambling off mission details to each other.

“I’ll bring them back,” Remy promised. “Whatever it takes.”

“I just… there’s so much going on,” Emile whispered. “I feel so… _involved._ And- And a case hasn’t felt this personal since-“

“I know,” Remy whispered. “It’s going to get better, Em.” He brushed the hair out of his partner’s face and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I swear on my life, it’s going to get better.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Forever and always.”

Past the door and into the hallway, Logan had finally managed to catch up to Roman. He stood with one hand on his cane and the other knocking on the cold door. “Roman, this has gone on long enough! Let me in!”

“Go away, jackass!” Roman yelled as he wiped away his tears. “I don’t want to fucking talk to you.”

“Then, at least listen.”

“NO!”

“Please.”

Roman stood up, grabbed a metal bat, and swung the door open. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave me the fuck alone?”

“You must allow me to apologize.”

“I _mustn’t_ do anything. Not for someone who doesn’t care if I live or die.” Logan cringed but Roman didn’t let go of the bat. It was too late for remorse.

“I spoke much too harshly,” Logan said. “I simply meant that Patton is our team’s only capable doctor-” Roman held the bat with two hands firmly above his head- “but I understand you aren’t looking for an explanation.”

“Do I mean nothing to you, Logan? Did _this_ mean nothing to you?” He lowered his weapon as tears began to well in his eyes once more. “When you arrived, I- I just wanted to be your friend. Most times it seems like you don’t even want _that!”_

“Roman, I-“

“I’m not fucking finished,” he snapped. “For the so-called ‘brains’ of this operation, you sure are a fucking idiot.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Of course you don’t,” he laughed. “Of course you fucking don’t.” Logan jumped at the sound of metal hitting the ground as Roman rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands. “I’ve been in love with you for a year, you fucking moron! But then- Then you say shit like _that_ and I wonder why I even bother!”

“Roman, I-”

“No, I don’t care,” he said. “I don’t care _what_ you have to say right now.” Roman stepped out of the room, barely dodging Logan as he walked out. “I’m staying in Patton’s room tonight. Do _not_ come looking for me.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major character death in chapter

“We have the schedules downloaded,” Logan said, standing over Virgil’s bed.

“Holy fucking shit dude!” Virgil yelled, heart racing as he opened his eyes.

“Is something the matter, Virgil?”

“YES! Holy fuck!” Virgil sat up in bed, pushing his hair back with his fingers. “You can’t just wake people up like you’re going to steak their fucking souls, shitbag!”

“Ah,” Logan murmured, “my apologies.”

Virgil shook his head and sighed. “No, it’s… fine. Sorry for calling you a shitbag.”

Logan’s face softened and his eyebrows raised almost in mild shock. His shoulders dropped for a small moment and he bit his lip in concentration. In a swift second he had hardened back into his cold persona. He gestured to hanger and costume bag in his hand. “Remy adjusted my old uniform to fit your size,” he said.

“Is this the one you… got shot in?” Virgil asked, wincing slightly.

“No, of course not,” he lied. “Now get ready quickly. We leave at 8:30.”

“What time is it?” Virgil groaned.

“Roughly 5:15 in the morning.”

Virgil fell back into his pillows. “This bunker is a _fucking nightmare!”_

**+**

Patton ran his fingers through Roman’s hair as he watched the rise and fall of his chest. The previous night had been horrible. Roman had slammed the door behind him as he walked in and cried for nearly an hour, the second he was in Patton’s arms. Patton had always had _some feelings_ for Logan and Roman, and he knew Roman had feelings for Logan as well; seeing them fight was devastating.

Roman started to wake up, leaning into Patton’s touch as he squeezed his eyes closed. “Good morning, my prince,” Patton whispered, pulling him closer. He felt almost guilty for holding so gently and close. Guilty for holding him like a husband. “It’s time to wake up, my brave knight.”

“Pattooooon,” Roman whined, rolling over so that their faces were inches apart. His face began to burn as he opened his eyes and placed his fingers gently on Patton’s chest. Just before he could feel his heartbeat, Patton moved his hand away, something unreadable in his eyes.

“Yes, angel?”

“Why do you do this?”

“Because if you’re too flustered to go back to sleep then you have no choice but to wake up,” Patton explained.

Roman’s face dropped slightly as he muttered a soft, “oh,” and pulled himself out of bed. “Your plan worked, you evil genius.”

“Come on,” Patton laughed. “Logan’s the genius here.” Roman froze for a moment and Patton instantly knew he made a mistake. “Roman, I’m sorry I-“

“Don’t take yourself down to that asshole’s level,” he said dryly.

“Roman,” Patton said authoritatively, “we both know how you feel about him. How we _both_ feel about him.”

Roman clenched his fists as tears rolled from his eyes.

“You need to talk to him,” Patton continued. “Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. He cares about all of us; he cares about _you,_ Roman. He just… doesn’t know how to show it.”

Roman thought back to the kiss. He wiped tears from his cheeks as he remembered seeing Logan flush with lips swollen from his own. “I will,” he whispered. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” Patton said, placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “I love you, Princey.”

Roman let out a shaky breath. “I love you too, puffball.”

**+**

The bunker was what Virgil considered to be the textbook definition of organized chaos. Remy and Roman had been rushing back and forth each holding three conversations at once and Virgil couldn’t keep up with a single one. At some point someone had handed him a cup of coffee; he didn’t see who. He was frozen in place, not sure of who or where he could exist near without getting run over.

“Ready for your first big day?” Emile asked, sliding a bagel sandwich across the kitchen counter to him. Virgil took the plate with an awkward smile and a sip of black coffee. “You’ll be fine,” he said, but it was clear from his tone that the therapist didn’t fully believe his own words. “Remy and Roman would never let anything bad happen to you.”

Virgil took a glance towards Roman. “And neither would Logan. I- I know he’s off the mission, but, I trust that he cares about us.” He smiled and felt something light and soft growing in his chest. “I trust that he’s looking out for us.”

“45 minutes to go time!” Remy yelled and he and Roman quickly got up and hurried in separate directions.

“You might want to get into uniform,” Emile winked.

Virgil hurriedly finished his sandwich and coffee and slid the dishes to Emile to put in the sink. “Thanks, Picani!” He ran off to the room and quickly stripped himself of his hoodie and jeans. He opened the bag and gently brushed his fingers over the light blue fabric of the shirt and the navy blue pants. He was almost ashamed to put them on.

The shirt fit snugly around his shoulders and hips. The pants were hemmed to his ankles and fit perfectly. He found a pair of polished black shoes sitting under his desk and slid them on. He looked in the mirror and for the first time in his life he felt- and looked- like a confident adult.

Roman’s eyes widened slightly when he passed by and it was clear that Logan was a little more than impressed. “Lookin’ sharp,” Remy teased with a finger gun and a wink.

“I’d say the same to you,” Virgil laughed. “Is that your good leather jacket?”

Remy presses a kiss to Emile’s cheek and smirked. “Yep! It’s my lucky one. I have a feeling today is going to be a good day.”

“We need all the good feelings we can get,” Roman said as he dangled his keys in the air. “Boys, let’s rollout.”

**+**

Virgil had almost forgotten how strange the bunker’s garage was. They climbed into Roman’s Jeep with Remy sitting in the back and drove onto that same hydraulic lift that had lowered Virgil into his freedom, now it lifted him back to the world that wanted him dead. He thought back to Roman and Logan’s statement. He took a deep breath and tried to remind himself that Logan was his friend. Logan cared for him; he cared for all of them. He hoped Roman knew that too.

When they arrived at the facility Remy handed Virgil a black pen. “Pick a name, word, whatever,” he said. “No one will read it but without the ink, you’re screwed.” Virgil thought back to that first meeting with Logan, took a breath, and pressed the pen to his skin.

He followed Remy like a shadow when they entered. He kept his head down just enough to avoid eye contact but mirrored Remy’s posture- shoulders back, legs straight, chest out, and chin up. It was an almost painful position to hold.

They found them in a cell just a story below Virgil’s old one. His heart sank when he saw Elliot hovered in a corner and starving next to a tray of untouched _slop._ “Don’t stare,” Remy whispered. Virgil stepped towards the cell. “ _Kid!”_

“I was like you once,” Virgil said and Elliot looked up at him in fear. “Would you like to be like me now?”

“You?” Elliot asked. “I’d never want to be like the scum who holds people against their will only to have them killed in some type of freak show.”

“Virge, _stop,”_ Remy seethed.

“What are you-”

Remy grabbed Virgil’s arm and they continued marching through the halls. “Be patient, young padawan,” he whispered. “And keep your mouth shut. We need a few more rounds.”

“Why?” Virgil whispered, trying to keep his legs straight as he marched closely behind.

“Keep your mouth _shut,”_ he repeated. “We need to survey the rest of the area before completing our mission. You know who’s listening or who’s about to walk in.”

Virgil nodded and continued to march; his thoughts kept drifting back to Logan. Logan’s cold and calculated stare as he ran equations and schedules through his head. Virgil shook back his thoughts. _What was the opposite of Stockholm syndrome? Was there any real logic in falling in love with your rescuer? Sure it happened in fairytales and make-believe but this wasn’t a fairytale-_ this wasn’t even a Grimm’s version- _it was so much worse._

No, he wasn’t in love with Logan. He couldn’t be. He and Logan were _friends_ and besides that, _Roman_ is in love with Logan. There was no situation where one of them wasn’t heartbroken, and Roman was heartbroken enough anyway.

A few hours passed and Virgil’s legs were beginning to cramp from all the marching and walking upstairs. “Okay,” Remy whispered. “It’s go time.”

They returned to Elliot’s cell and Virgil felt like he had gone back in time. Remy unlocked the cell door and pulled a makeshift tool out of his pocket. He used the tool to open up the bar windows and pulled a handgun out of his pocket. He steadied his gaze and aimed outside where a few guards had been patrolling the area.

He held his wrist up, letting his sleeve fall so that Elliot could read the ink. **_Barren._** “My name is Virgil Bianchi and we’re here to help you.”

“Virgil,” Elliot murmured. “My- My friend Kai, we… why are you back here?”

He pulled the trigger and one of the guards laid dead on the grass.

“Remy,” Virgil gasped.

“A small price to pay for freedom,” he said. “Now let’s go.”

Virgil grabbed Elliot’s hand and they ran, following Remy down flights of stairs and long hallways. “They’re catching up!” Elliot yelled.

“Not if I can help it,” Remy said. He opened up a cell and ripped open a window. “Let’s go.”

“That’s a two-story jump,” Virgil said. “There’s no way we’re going to make it.”

“Scared of a few broken bones, Virgil?” Remy teased, working with something outside the window that neither Virgil nor Elliot could see.

“Yes!” Virgil shouted. “And reasonably so! I’m reasonably afraid of any of us getting hurt!”

Remy held a rope out towards Virgil. “None of us are going to get hurt,” he said, somewhat more seriously. “Not if I can do anything about it.”

He helped Virgil (and then Elliot) climb down the rope before sliding down himself. Virgil shook out his hands, muttering something about rope burn.

“INTRUDERS!” A guard yelled and the three of them bolted.

They ran and that feeling of his chest tightening up returned to Virgil once more. His throat burned and his back felt as stiff as stone. Guards chased after them loading their guns and beginning to fire. Remy quickly pulled out his phone and hit speed-dial. “Roman!” he yelled, panting for air. “We’ve only got a few seconds without you, buddy!”

“On it,” Roman said, turning the ignition in his jeep and backing out of the alley towards the building.

Virgil opened up the door to the backseat and hurriedly helped Elliot inside. In his moment of standing still, he found himself gasping for air and wheezing. For the first time in his life, he _wanted to be_ in the bunker. If someone had told him that all those months ago, he would have thought that they were delusional.

Remy snapped around at a familiar noise. His eyes widened. “VIRGIL! LOOK OUT!” he yelled, diving in front of him. The two fell to the ground as the pain shot through Remy’s body. When Virgil sat up, he could see the blood staining the chest of his white tee shirt.

“Remy, you- you saved my life,” Virgil said, too shocked to even cry.

“You need to go,” Remy whispered, coughing up blood.

“Remy, I-”

“Go!” he repeated. “And tell Emile I- I love him.”

Remy laid back on the grass, closing his eyes but listening to everything around him. Virgil got in the car and as they drove off Remy opened his eyes just to watch his family head towards their freedom one last time.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, racing away from the guards. They all seemed to be crowding around Remy’s body. Virgil kept his gaze on his hands and away from the car mirrors. They slowed down once they reached a familiar path in the woods. Roman put a hand on Virgil’s thigh. “You did the right thing.”

“How? He saved my life and I… I just left him there.”

“You respected his wishes,” Roman said softly, rubbing his thumb against Virgil’s knee. The weight of his hand and the gentle motion was calming; he let out a slow exhale.

When they arrived back at the bunker there was hardly time for introductions. They found Patton and Logan sitting in the kitchen with Emile- and he was sobbing harder than Virgil had ever seen anyone cry before. “What’s going on?”

“It burns,” Emile said between sobs, gripping his wrist in his hand. “It burns so much.”

Virgil walked closer watching that black of Emile’s mark turn into brown. “It looks like my mother’s,” he whispered and the man in front of him stared up with wide eyes.

Logan stood up and locked eyes with Roman. They both glanced back towards the garage and then towards each other holding their breaths in a silent conversation. Logan started to run forward but without his cane he only fell into Roman’s arms, sobbing into his ear. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Remy was a brave man, he-”

“Not about Remy,” Logan said. “I mean- of course, it’s horrible, but- I meant about you.”

“What?” Roman asked, trying to stay still and emotionless. He couldn’t break again.

“I was so wrong with the way I handled things and-“ he took a deep breath- “One word from you will silence me on this subject forever. You were right to be angry I was, objectively, a major jackass. And I…” He steadied his breath, wiping away a few tears as he clutched Roman even tighter. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Roman said nothing but lowered his head against Logan’s and held him tightly. Just as Emile’s mark has faded, without Remy their lives were all about to change. They could only wonder if it would be for better or worse.


	14. Chapter 14

“Amazing grace.” Candles flickered throughout the bunker. It wasn’t much, but Patton had managed to get a bouquet of roses to place next to framed photographs of Remy. It was hard to find ones where he was smiling. “How sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.” As they sang softly, Logan intertwined his hand with Roman’s. “I once was lost, but now am found.” Elliot stood at the edge of the room, still clad in their usual greys and browns they remained the only person not in fully black attire. Virgil’s eyes drifted towards the other three; Roman’s free hand reached to link with Patton’s. “Was blind but now I see.” **  
**

The funeral was almost pathetic. A room of five people, one of whom had never truly known the deceased, when Remy should have had so much more. Patton had split off from Roman to kneel by the makeshift shrine and say a silent prayer; Virgil hadn’t seen the point. There was no sun or life in the bunker. There were no gods to look after them in there.

Virgil had found himself at Emile’s door with a cold turkey sandwich standing frozen as he listened to the choked sobs coming from the other side. He cleared his throat and knocked. “Em?” he asked, the collar of Logan’s polo seeming to choke him. “Can I come in?”

The sobs quieted but there was no answer. Virgil wondered if Emile blamed him for Remy’s death. Remy _had_ died protecting him after all. “I’m not hungry,” Picani said weakly.

Virgil took a deep breath. _That’s bullshit, Em._ He debated opening the door. _Hungry or not you still need to eat._ He cracked the door open just enough to put the plate inside and closed the door. _I blame myself too._

He walked away from the door. 

Patton had busied himself with chores and work; Roman had kept himself moving and walking around. Neither of them could deal with the loss. Even Logan had been distant and keeping to himself. Yet Elliot wandered, simply trying to get a feel for where they were, and how long they could survive.

**+**

When Logan found Patton, he had been sitting on the couch distracting himself with a pair of knitting needles and yarn. A pile of finished washcloths sat next to him, and he seemed to be working on a scarf. “Patton, do you mind if I join you?”

Patton patted the seat next to him and placed his needles and yarn on the table. “Only if you’re okay with cuddles,” he said with a soft smile. Logan sat down, offering open arms to Patton but finding himself surprised when Patton pulled him into something between a side hug and being a little spoon. “Can I play with your hair?” Patton asked.

Logan was hesitant. His hair had always been flat and kind of dry, not something that seemed pleasant to play with. But he knew what Patton really meant, _please keep me busy._ “Of course, Patton,” he said softly, leaning in to the touch and melting softly into Patton’s side.

“I know he was important to you,” Patton said, carding his fingers through Logan’s hair.

“He taught me everything I know.”

There was a moment of silence. “Me too.” The air seemed full of unspoken words and half forgotten memories. “I guess he was like our dad, ya know.”

“I understand the sentiment, but I have to disagree. Remy is one hundred percent what you and Roman would call a mom friend.”

Patton laughed, nearly pushing Logan off of the couch as he doubled over in pain. “Excuse you,” he laughed. “Remy is our dad and Emile is our mom.”

“I see my error,” Logan teased. “And where does that leave the rest of us?”

“Hmmm,” Patton pretended to think to himself. “That makes Virgil your son.”

Logan scrunched up his face in overdramatic disgust. “No way. Virgil is _not_ my son.”

“Why not?” Patton teased with a laugh. “Don’t you care about him?”

“Well of course I… care… about him.” Logan’s face turned pink as he spoke. “Just in… a not very… _fatherly_ way.”

“Oh?” Patton tilted his head in confusion before opening his jaw and letting his expression drop into a more soothing appearance. “Oh. I see.” He smiled teasingly, running his fingers through Logan’s hair. “Does our little Logan have a crush?”

“Patton, don’t be so immature. I have bigger problems to deal with than attempting to categorize my feelings towards… Virgil. I have bigger problems than Virgil.”

“You know I’m just teasing, Logan,” Patton said, pressing a kiss to Logan’s scalp as he pulled him closer. “But if you _did_ want to confess to him, I know he cares about you, Lo. We all do. And I know… that any of us would feel like the _luckiest man alive_ to have you care for m- him. Care for him.”

Logan stayed silent but wrapped his arms tightly around Patton’s waist as the guilt settled in both of their chests. Logan thought about Virgil, and he thought about Patton as well as what _those_ feelings meant, but his mind found a way to drift back to Roman. To the kiss. The human mind was surely a dangerous thing.

“Patton, I… well, Roman and I, we-“

“Shhh, you don’t need to say anything,” Patton said. “I know you two have fought and argued, there’s probably nothing you could tell me that Roman hasn’t already, anyway.”

“But we-“ Logan sighed, nuzzling into Patton’s chest. He mumbled quietly under his breath, “I love you.”

**+**

Virgil couldn’t help but almost feel nostalgic when he saw Elliot. They were confused and lost, probably missing friends or family. He had lost track of how long it had been, but he knew they were just like he was when he first arrived.

He kept staring at Picani’s door. Emile had been the first person to warm up to him, perhaps he could help Elliot adjust as well. “Has he come out yet?” Virgil asked.

“Uh, he has a pride flag in his offi- you- you meant out of his room, right,” Elliot mumbled. “I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Damnit,” Virgil mumbled, dropping his shoulders with an exhale.

“Virgil? Can I ask you a question?”

Virgil glanced at the door one last time before turning his attention to Elliot. Picani could wait. “What’s up?”

“How did you… adjust?” they asked. “How did you leave it all behind?”

“I ask myself that question everyday,” Virgil said. “But I never had many attachments, it wasn’t hard to leave them behind.” He ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh, and leaned against the doorframe. “My only real regret is never getting to tell my mom goodbye. I was arrested at school, I couldn’t have known that that was the last time I’d ever see her- or- or the last lunch she’d ever make me.”

“Virgil, I- I’m so sorry,” Elliot said.

“It’s fine,” Virgil insisted. “I trust that she knows what I would have said.”

“I… my friend, Kai,” Elliot said. “He protected me when no one else would. I don’t know what happened to him.”

Virgil put a hand on Elliot’s shoulder. “We’ll keep an eye out for any news on him.”

“Thanks.”

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” Virgil said. “It’s easy to get lost around here.”

As they walked away from the door, Picani slowly stood, his knees weak and hands shaking. Nicole. Of _course_ he wanted to see Nicole. He picked up his pen and notepad and began to write…

**+**

They had nearly fallen asleep when Roman had walked in. “Good, you’re both here,” he said, sitting at the far end of the couch. Logan and Patton adjusted to properly see him. “I need to talk to you.”

“Are you okay?” Logan asked quietly.

“I’m alive,” he said, “and that’s all I can really ask for.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve recently realized that I’m polyamorous-“

“Aww, Roman, thank you for telling u-“

“I’m not done, Patton.” He interlocked his own fingers, feeling his heart race as he swallowed his pride. “And I… I have feelings for you. Both of you. Giant, mushy, romantic feelings! Okay?! I- I dream of playing with your hair and kissing your cheeks and your _mouths_ and- yeah, as awkward as this is to admit- yeah I’ve even thought about having sex with you once or twice, or a couple dozen times!”

“Roman,” they both murmured.

“I- I’m sorry if this is awkward or- or uncomfortable I just…,” Roman let his head hang as he curled in on himself and hid his face in his palms. “I couldn’t die knowing this was left unsaid.”

“Roman, come here,” Logan said with open arms. Roman crawled into his lap, feeling both men’s arms around him. “If this is the proper time for confessions then I, too, must say that I’ve had feelings of that sort towards you for quite some time. You _and_ Patton.”

They both looked to Patton who had tears in his eyes. “I… I never thought this would be… real, you know?”

“I know,” Roman whispered and Logan held him closer.

They all sat in the serenity, the eye of the storm of emotions, and basked in the fragile love and unspoken words. For one fractal of a moment, everything seemed like it just may actually be alright. 

Virgil knocked on the doorframe, he held a pad of paper in his hands and he looked messy and disheveled. When he locked eyes with the other three he straightened his posture and tried to appear calm- yet Logan still noticed his white knuckles and the quick rise and fall of his chest. “Am I interrupting something?” Virgil asked.

“As a matter of fact-“

“You aren’t interrupting anything, Virgil.”

Virgil nervously handed over the notepad to Logan. “Picani, he- he left this note. He ran off and I- I think it’s my fault.”

“4-7-8, Virgil,” Logan said calmly. “Remember what I taught you.”

Patton looked over the note, scanning every line and detail. “This isn’t your fault. He just needs some space, okay?”

“He- He probably blames me,” Virgil said. “It’s all my fault that he’s dead. I should’ve taken that bullet, not him.”

“No. Stop that,” Logan commanded.

“We’re in a dangerous line of work,” Patton explained. “Remy knew the risks when he joined the organization. He knew the risks when he took in me and Roman. He knew the risks when he took in Logan.”

“And he knew that we need you,” Roman said. “Picani just needs some time alone, and you need some time with people who love you.”

“But, I-“

“No ‘but’, Virgil. Lay with us. Relax. You’ve had a long few days.”

Virgil thought for a moment but slowly sat down, maneuvering himself into Roman’s lap as the others touched him softly and played with his hair. He relaxed into Roman, who sang a soft tune in his ear. He fell asleep with Patton’s hand on his back, Logan’s arm around his waist, and his forehead pressed against Roman’s cheek.

“I once was lost, but now am found. Was blind but now I see.”


	15. Chapter 15

Virgil was happy for them. That’s what he told himself as he turned on the treadmill. They were together. They were happy. Virgil started jogging.

Logan was using the cane less and less. He saw the way he and Roman danced in the living room to celebrate. He saw how Patton laughed with them and took photos to remember the moment. He saw how easily they could forget everything else happening.

He increased the speed and started running. He saw how Patton and Roman kissed softly and lovingly in the kitchen as if they had been waiting their whole lives to be together. He knew they probably had been.

He saw how they all loved each other. He saw how as they grew closer he only grew further apart from them. Was he jealous? Was he scared of losing their friendship? In the back of his mind, a small idea sparked to life. Did he want to be part of what they had?

He ran faster. He tried to kill the concept. He tried to kill his feelings. He tried to kill the way he wanted to kiss Logan. He tried to kill the desire to spend late nights with Roman talking and lying in the dark- something so simple but so intimate all at once. He tried to kill the part of him that always wondered what it would be like to be in Patton’s arms, at the center of all his love and devotion. His skin under Patton’s lips, his everything under Patton’s control.

He couldn’t kill these thoughts on his own. He wanted to talk to someone about it. Someone who has been there for him from the beginning. Someone named Emile.

But Emile was gone. He left when Remy died. And wasn’t that death all his fault, really? Wasn’t it all Virgil’s fault?

He ran faster and faster until it felt like his legs would give out from under him, even then he kept on running. He wanted to run until he was only skin and bone with no energy left to run. He wanted to run until everything was behind him and every lovely moment was a cruel dream to wake up from. He wanted to run until he was young and small again, when his parents were both still happily living, when there was still hope for him to be normal. Before his fate was sealed. Before he was heartless. Before he was a monster.

He squeezed his eyes tight, his heart and feet pounding against the machine as tears rolled down his face. He heard someone call out his name. He felt arms catch him as the treadmill came to an abrupt stop. He didn’t want to open his eyes. Because he knew when he woke up, it wouldn’t be his mom holding him, nor would it be his father, and he would still be Barren.

“Virgil, are you okay?” the voice whispered, soft and tender. Virgil blushes as he felt himself get picked up bridal style. When he opened his eyes he was face to face with Patton, and he blushed even harder.

“Patton, I-“ He wiped the tears from his face as his heart began to race with embarrassment. “What are you doing here?”

“Roman said you’d be here,” Patton explained. “I wanted to know what kind of birthday cake you like.”

“Birthday?”

“Virgil, your birthday is in less than a week. You didn’t forget, did you?” he teased. “Oh my goodness gracious, you forgot, I’m so sorry-“

“You don’t need to apologize, Patton. I’ve just been a bit… distracted.”

Patton looked at him sadly, reading him like an open book. Virgil began to fear that Patton could read minds, that he knew every dark, jealous thought that crosses his mind. “Oh, Virgil,” he said quietly and the younger boy feared that he would begin to cry again. Patton held him tighter and that fear became a reality. “Is there, perhaps, a chance that you’ve felt ignored recently? I know that Roman, Logan, and I have been spending a lot more time together, but we never meant to make you or Elliot feel alone.”

“E- Elliot’s fine,” Virgil choked out.

“I wouldn’t mind spending some time together if that’s alright with you.” Patton’s smile was pure sunlight and the word _“Together”_ rang out in Virgil’s mind. He leaned his head against Patton’s chest and put a hand over his heart. Just knowing that Patton was alive and well seemed to be enough for him. “Well?”

“My legs hurt,” he tiredly mumbled.

Patton laughed, carrying him out of the training room, and holding him tightly. “I can get a bath ready for you and then we can do whatever you want.”

“You’re amazing, Patton.”

He laughed, using the hand under Virgil’s leg’s to open the bathroom door. He set Virgil down on top of the closed toilet and Virgil immediately noticed the lack of warmth surrounding him and tried to hold back a whine of disappointment. Why did Patton always make Virgil feel like a child in need of being taken care of?

“You strike me as someone who likes it hot,” he said with a wink as he turned the faucet on. “Bath bomb?”

“Um, sure,” Virgil mumbled, staring in awe as Patton dropped in a purple sphere that quickly turned the bathwater glittery.

“Towels are under the sink,” Patton said. He brushed away Virgil’s hair and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, he left before Virgil could process what had happened. There was a soft click as the door closed and Virgil’s fingers softly ghosted over where Patton’s lips had been.

He stripped quickly, leaving his clothes folded on top of the toilet lid, and sunk into the purple water. His body relaxed and, if only for a brief moment, he hated himself a little less. He let himself sink until his hair was wet. He began to understand why so many people’s idea of self-care meant wearing a face mask and drinking lemon water.

It was maybe half an hour later when he came out with his hair still damp and his bangs sticking to his forehead. Roman smiled at him as they passed in the hallway. “Don’t be too rough with him,” he teased with a wink before disappearing back into another room. Allegedly, he had been busy with paperwork for a few days and Virgil had barely seen him.

“Feeling better?” Patton asked with a smile, holding a bundle of fabric in his hands. “Thought you might want some pajamas,” he said, before quietly pulling something out of the bundle, “and watch a movie? We, uh, don’t have to if you don’t want. I just thought it would be relaxing for you.”

“Patton,” Virgil said, his heart pounding in his chest as a smile spread to his face, “it’s perfect.”

In only a matter of minutes, Virgil and Patton were in matching cat onesies- one black, one grey- laying close together in a pile of pillows and watching Detective Pikachu on Patton’s tv.

“You look kinda tense,” Patton teased with open arms.

“I- um- I don’t-“

His expression dropped slightly, but he tried not to look too disappointed as he returned his arms to his sides. “Virgil, if you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to do any of this. I’ll understand.”

“Is this allowed?” he asked quietly. “Patton, I don’t want to intrude on anything between you three. I- Are Roman and Logan okay with this?!”

“Oh, Virgil,” Patton sighed softly. He paused the movie. “Can I hug you?” Virgil dove into Patton’s arms trying to calm down his racing heart and the way his eyes threatened to storm and pour for the third time that day. Patton’s fingers ran through his hair and his arms felt like home. “Roman and Logan know I’m affectionate, that’s just who I am, they’re not going to have any problem with me giving some of that affection to you.”

“What if they get the wrong idea?”

“There’s nothing the three of us haven’t discussed already,” Patton said. “I promise, Virgil, the only consent you have to worry about here is yours and mine.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Not everything is life or death, Virgil,” he said, “sometimes I’m just asking if you want to cuddle and watch a movie with me.”

“I’d like that,” Virgil said. “I’d like that a lot.” And Patton kisses his forehead once more and pressed play on the movie. He held Virgil in his arms. He was safe and warm. Not quite parental, but family, nonetheless. Virgil pushes back any negative feelings. For now, he would simply enjoy the time alone he had with him. It wasn’t long before they were fast asleep in each other’s arms, breathing in time with their hearts beating as one.

**+++**

Patton had let Virgil keep the onesie and he slept with it nearly every night. It was warm and soft and it felt like _love._ “I’m so gone, aren’t I?” Virgil asked himself as he lay in bed, too tired to get up and face the day.

“Gone? You’re right here,” Roman laughed from the p  
doorway causing Virgil to sit up in a panic.

“Roman! What the fuck?!”

Roman laughed and sat at the edge of Virgil’s bed. He held a crudely wrapped package in his hands. “I wanted to give you this. Happy birthday, Virgil.”

“Oh,” he muttered as he took the package. “Right.” He slid his fingers under the wrapping paper and tore it apart until he held an iron-on patch in the shape of a cloud with a lightning bolt in his hand.

“It reminded me of you, I guess. Since you’re so dark and edgy,” he said with a wink and a laugh that Virgil could tell was only a cover for fear. “I thought you might want to put it on your jacket or I don’t know, I just hope you like it.”

“It’s perfect,” Virgil said with a smile, holding it to his heart.

“C’mon, we have a whole party waiting for you,” Roman said, grabbing Virgil’s hands and pulling him out of the room.

“Party?!”

“Happy birthday!” Everyone yelled while surrounded by half-filled balloons and cheaply made decorations. A messy cake sat on the counter with purple and black icing on it.

“You guys didn’t have to do all this,” he said, eyes wide in awe at it all.

“I know,” Logan said. “We did it because we _wanted_ to. Because we care about you.”

Virgil hugged Logan tightly and pulled Patton and Roman into the mix. For the first time in years, he felt truly loved by more than just family, but this group _was_ his family. He felt warm and safe. He felt like he belonged. “This is the best birthday ever.”


	16. Chapter 16

The woman took purposeful strides, often forgetting how much shorter the boy walking next to her was. Her brown hair was pulled back tightly into a ponytail and she seemed to be dressed more for a business meeting than a therapy session. While not of a corporate degree, the woman certainly had business to attend to.

“Oh- H- Hello, I don’t have any appointments this week, but-“

“Cut the shit, Emile,” Nicole said. “Where’s my son?”

**+++**

Virgil was _thriving_ from all the attention he had been getting. Patton showered him with forehead kisses and cuddles, Roman offered compliments and hugs at every corner, and Logan was always there to offer reassurances and reminders of how loved he was.

He felt like he belonged. And that was the most confusing thing of all. His heart was torn in a million different directions between soaking in all of the love or hiding far, far away from it all so that the rejection would hurt less.

But Virgil was selfish. And deeply falling into the abyss of love. He laughed as he saw Logan and Patton dancing in the kitchen, both so clumsy but laughing and full of love. “Dance with me,” Roman said, holding a hand in front of Virgil’s.

“Oh- I- I have two left feet,” he lied.

“So do those two. C’mon. It’ll be fun.” Roman’s invitation felt so common yet so intimate all at once. Virgil knew how the three of them loved to dance together when they were alone, was this some sort of a silent invitation into the quietest and domestic parts of their lives? Of their relationship? Virgil’s heart sped in his chest.

He took Roman’s hand and let himself be twirled into the kitchen and a gentle waltz, safely tucked between Roman’s arms. His heartbeat in time to the soft, jazzy tune he vaguely remembered from a movie he had seen with his mother when he was a kid. He could hardly remember anything other than talking dogs and a _lot_ of balloons, but the song vibrated through his chest with the word _“soulmates”_ echoing through his head.

It was a feeling he had read about in books and fairytales. Soulmates _knowing_ that they’re meant to be together. It all seemed so fake all those years ago, and as he got older he knew being Barren meant he’d never be able to feel that. But now? Everything seemed perfect. It seemed so right, in a horribly wrong sort of way.

Roman twirled him into Logan’s arms as he began to dance with Patton. Virgil smiled at Logan and laughed awkwardly but found dancing with him to be far easier than expected. Logan was a perfect lead, precise and taking each step deliberately, and he kept a firm hold on Virgil but one that felt comforting nonetheless.

They all kept dancing, switching partners every few minutes, and laughing and _loving._ The song ended with Virgil once again in Roman’s arms, laughing as their foreheads pressed together. He found himself completely blind to the glance that Logan and Patton shared; he found himself completely blind to the fact that his life was about to change forever.

Later that day, when Roman was tucked away with work and Patton and Logan were busy training, Virgil found himself lying on the floor of Elliot’s room. “How much did it hurt?” he asked. “The tattoo. Mom always wanted me to get one, but I was too scared of the pain.”

“Yeah,” Elliot said. “But it’s not that bad. And if it saves your life, it’s worth it.”

“And yet we’re both _here,_ ” Virgil said. “So, was it?”

“I-“ Elliot thought for a moment, silence on their tongue. “I just… chose the wrong name.”

“A bully?”

“A boyfriend,” they said. “He’s not exactly… a _fan_ of people like us. Sometimes I wonder if he’s the one that reported me.”

“Tattoo shops are raided all the time,” Virgil said. “Someone probably just stole the documents.”

“ _Someone_ ,” they argued, “would have had to tell the police first.”

“That’s fair.”

“How did you get caught?”

“Typical story. Someone saw my arm, caused a scene, and I just couldn’t outrun the cops. I was put on display. I hated it.”

“Virgil, that sounds awful.”

“I’m sure what you went through wasn’t exactly a picnic either.”

“Being Barren sucks ass.”

“It really does, doesn’t it?” Virgil laughed. “But at least we have company. I can’t imagine doing this all with anyone else.”

“It sounds like you love them,” Elliot teased.

Virgil stood silently for a moment, memories and emotions rushing to his head and through his heart. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Maybe I do.”

“Oh no, you’re in deep, huh?”

Virgil sent them a glare. “I’m just saying that I,” he said slowly, putting deep thought and consideration into every word, “enjoy their company.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh don’t give me that look!” Virgil said. “It’s not like I’m calling them my soulmates- _well_ …-“ He decided that was a topic for a different day. “They make me feel safe. And loved. And isn’t that all anybody wants when all is said and done?” He paused for a moment, face blushing as he thought of that morning’s events. “I think they’re incredible.”

“I wish you the best of luck with that.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Thanks. And I wish you the best of luck with getting out of here. I’m sure this isn’t your ideal situation.”

“Living with my therapist, three polyamorous idiots, and my best friend’s hero?” they asked. “Not what I expected, no.”

“Hero?”

“You’re a living legend!” Elliot explained. “My friend Kai really admires you. He thinks you’re pretty kickass.”

“Kickass? I hardly did anything. Logan is the one who saved me.”

“Au contraire,” Elliot argued. “ _You_ saved _me.”_

“Huh. Maybe I do have a bit of kickass.”

“Hell yeah, you fucking do.”

“Language.”

“Kiss my ass,” Elliot said, sticking out their tongue with a laugh. Virgil fell back against the floor with laughter. He finally felt like he was making up for lost time on all the years he spent friendless and alone.

**+++**

It was a grocery day. Patton was thankful to have the least risky job of the bunker, but that never meant he was completely safe. He kept the sleeves of his cardigan just high enough the show that he _had_ a mark, but still covered enough to prevent anyone from looking any closer at it. He carried reusable shopping bags in his hands as he walked the extra block back to Roman’s Jeep. As he walked, he found himself faced with a difficult proposition.

Would it be the right thing to do to visit Emile?

On one hand, if Emile had wanted to see them, surely he would have come back to the bunker already.

But what if he needed company? There’s a large difference between having a friend visit you and going back to a small family.

Patton pulled out the keys from his pocket and unlocked the Jeep. He piled in grocery bags into the back seat and got into the driver’s seat. He took a deep breath and started the directions to Picani’s office…

**+++**

Roman was starting to get really sick of the sound of keys typing. He had been locked in the office for hours, trying to get paperwork done for the organization. He hated paperwork, especially on such short notice. He had been taking whatever short lunch break he had to just walk around the bunker and have an opportunity to stretch his legs. He stopped in front of Elliot’s room, his hand on the doorknob, to ask if they were hungry.

_“It sounds like you love them.”_

_“Yeah. Maybe I do.”_

Roman knew that eavesdropping was wrong, but could anyone blame him if he stuck around for a few more seconds, just for some context?

Eventually, his guilty conscience was too hard to ignore and he quickly made his way into the kitchen to at least attempt a meal. That is if black coffee and ramen count as a meal.

“A man of high taste, huh?” Virgil teased as he passed by.

Roman’s heart raced as he emptied the noodles into the pot. Did Virgil know he had been listening? “I could make you some if you want.”

“Nah, I had a turkey sandwich earlier,” Virgil said. “But have fun with your John Mulaney Piss Poor College Student Dinner Deluxe.”

“No one said it’s easy when Patton is on grocery duty,” Roman teased, turning around but easily finding himself chest to chest with Virgil and trying not to blush so hard. Was Virgil’s smirk always this adorable? The younger boy was at the same height as Roman’s lips, perfect for forehead kisses; was he allowed to be flustered by such a simple fact?

Virgil quickly moved out of the way. “No offense, but this place has never exactly had a five-star kitchen.”

Roman laughed, moving to a different counter to chop up some old vegetables for his noodles. “In our defense, all we have is Emile’s extra cash to feed us.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?” Virgil asked quietly. “Or- Or maybe I could hide in the back of the Jeep next time Patton leaves and- and then I can talk to him and say I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“I- And then maybe he _will_ come back! Or- At least things will be okay again and- and- and-“

“Virgil, you need to calm down you’re getting hysterical,” Roman said. “You can’t leave the bunker. It’s still very dangerous for you out there.”

“But Emile-“

“Emile will be fine. You, however, won’t be.”

“But-“ Roman opened his arms wide and Virgil ran into him, hiding his face in Roman’s chest. Roman rubbed on hand on Virgil’s back as he hummed the gentle tune they had all been dancing to that morning.

“What if I lose Emile too?” Virgil asked quietly. Roman could feel the tears on his shirt. “I already lost my mom. I can’t lose him too.”

“You won’t,” Roman whispered. “This is just how Emile is. Sometimes he just needs to hide away for a while. Until the sadness subsides, you know? He’ll be back in his own time. He’s gone through a great loss and all we can do is give him time.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “Okay.”

“And Virgil? He loves you. Don’t think that this means he cares for you any less.”

“Your ramen is burning.”

“Oh fuck!” Roman yelled, running over to the stove and quickly moving the pot off the burner. He tossed in a few of the chopped veggies and stirred in the seasoning. “Not my best batch,” he teased, easing off the mild heart attack he was experiencing. “I’m usually better at cooking.”

“That’s half my fault,” Virgil teased, quickly wiping his eyes and seeming more than eager to change the conversation.

“Oh please, I’ve ruined plenty of Patton’s meals by being an attention whore,” Roman said. “The desire for Patton hugs waits for no man, woman, enby, or pot roast.”

“I believe that.”

“So uh, this is probably a bad time to ask,” Roman said as he poured his half-burnt half raw soup into a bowl. “But I’m working on getting Elliot transferred.”

“Transferred?”

“And I, well, I need to ask if you want to go with them,” Roman said. Despite knowing that Virgil would likely say “no” he couldn’t stop his heart from racing or his hands from shaking. “I know this isn’t really your thing. We can get you a tattoo and send you to a division in another country. You can start life all over again.”

“Start over?”

“And you won’t be trapped underground,” he said through a forced smile. “But it’s up to you. It wouldn’t take long to do the paperwork once I get Elliot’s set up.”

“Leave,” Virgil said slowly as if the word left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“You know, repeating everything I say isn’t much of an answer.”

“Right, I’m sorry,” he said. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to give me an answer straight away. It’s okay to take your time.”

“No, that’s not what I meant I- I think that paperwork is completely unnecessary.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You know, I have an anxiety disorder and I, well, I don’t like change _soooo.”_

“So?”

“You’re really going to make me spell this out for you, huh?”

“It’s a simple question, Virgil.”

“I want to stay,” he mumbled. “As cliche as it sounds, you guys are like a family to me. I don’t want anything to ruin that.”

“Oh, Virgil,” Roman said with a smile. _We love you too._

**+++**

Patton hated going anywhere empty-handed, which is why he was currently walking into Dr. Picani’s office with a box full of chocolate donuts. He had expected to find Emile alone and silently working on paperwork, what he found instead was the flap of a butterfly’s wings that started a storm.

Or perhaps it was already a storm from a butterfly of long, long ago.

“Emile, I didn’t realize you have patients.”

“Patton!” Emile yelled. “What are you doing here?” He seemed to be in the middle of a fight with a tall, brunette woman and a short boy with cotton-candy hair.

“I came to see how you’re doing. And, uh, give you these,” he said, putting the box of donuts on the table. The young boy immediately went for the box of donuts and started eating one.

“Patton, I’d like to introduce you to Mrs. Bianchi. Mrs. Bianchi, this is my old friend, Patton Hart.”

“Bianchi?” Patton asked, eyebrows raised. “Any relation to the wanted fugitive?”

“Who’s asking?” Nicole asked, her voice dripping with poison.

“It’s okay,” Emile said. “We’re all on the same side.”

“Nicole is Virgil’s mother. She’s trying to find him.”  
“And I need to find Elliot!”

“Kai,” Nicole whispered, “you need to calm down.”

“NO!” Kai yelled. “I need to know where they are!”

“Elliot’s with Virgil,” Patton said. “Both of them are only an hour’s drive away.”

“Oh my God,” Nicole gasped. “He’s okay.”

“Elliot’s on their way to being transferred, though,” Patton said.

“Transferred?”

“The bunker only has room for so many,” he explained, “and it’s not exactly a _life_ living underground.”

“So, where are they going?”

“One of the other branches of our organization will take them and help them set up a new life.”

“And Virgil?”

“The choice to stay or leave is Virgil’s to make,” Patton said. “That is if he hasn’t made it already.”

“I need to see him,” Nicole pleaded. “Please, I need to see my son!”

“And you will,” Patton said. “But not today. You never know who could be following.”

“So what the hell am I supposed to do? Wait?!”

“With the knowledge that your son is safe and loved, yes.”

“Mr. Hart, I need to know, how is he doing? What has his life been like for the past few months?” Nicole asked. “You said my son is loved, how can I be so sure?”

“Virgil has spent the past few months living with and my two boyfriends, Roman and Logan, as well as Dr. Picani and his late queerplatonic partner, Remy- may God rest his soul- and I can assure you that we have spent all these months making sure that he is comfortable. As I have grown closer with Roman and Logan, the three of us have also grown to care for your son. I can only hope that no matter what, he is safe and happy.”

“Patton,” Emile whispered under his breath, a knowingness in his tone and the shine of his eyes.

“And I know he misses you, Nicole. Call me in a week and I can arrange for Emile to bring you to our hideaway.”

“Will Elliot still be there?” Kai asked.

“Of course,” Patton said. “As long as you can promise to see them, I’ll hold off on their transfer. You two deserve a proper goodbye.”

Kai blinked back a few tears and smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Hart. Thank you so much.”

“Of course, now if you don’t mind, I need a few minutes alone with Dr. Picani.”

“Of course, Mr. Hart,” Nicole said. “And thank you so much. I will be in contact with you in one week.”

“I look forward to it, Mrs. Bianchi.”

Nicole and Kai smiled as they left the room and Patton was quick to fall onto Picani’s couch.

“Patton, you really must warn me next time,” Emile said. “You know how I hate surprises.”

“You’re going to complain to me about surprises? _That_ was a surprise, Em.”

“She shocked me too, but-”

“How long have you known?”

“What?”

“Nicole. How long have you been hiding the fact that she’s trying to find Virgil? How long have you hidden Virgil from _her?”_

“A month or two but-”

“A month?! Emile!”

“I didn’t want you all to lose Virgil!”

“Virgil needs his _mother,_ Emile. As much as you care for him, and as much as I _love_ him, he needs his mother.”

“He needs us too.”

“That’s his own choice to make.”

“I just… I thought this would be easier. For everyone.”

“Em,” Patton sighed, “it’s time to admit that you were wrong.”

“How can I make this up to you guys?”

“One week,” Patton said, getting up from the couch and heading out of the office. “I have frozens in the car.”

“Patton-”

“Enjoy the donuts.”

**+++**

When Patton got home, seeing Roman waiting for him seemed to be all that mattered. He parked the car and turned off the engine, lazily putting the keys in his pocket as he slipped out of the car.

“Babe, let me help you with the bags.”

“Shh, bags can wait,” Patton said, wrapping his arms around Roman’s neck and letting all of his weight fall onto his boyfriend.

“Long day?”

“Mhmm.”

“Want me to just shut up and kiss you?” he teased.

“You know me so well,” Patton said as Roman’s hand cupped his cheek and they closed the gap between them. _Yeah,_ Patton thought, _bags can wait._


	17. Chapter 17

“So, uh, Virgil,” Patton said as the five of them sat in the living room together for movie night with Elliot sitting separately while the other four of them were crammed together in a cuddle pile, “I have some good news.”

“Hmm?” Virgil hummed, melting into sleep as Logan’s fingers ran through and twisted his hair.

“Emile’s coming back tomorrow.”

“WHAT?!” the other four shouted in unison.

“Patton, why didn’t you tell us?” Logan asked with a small smile. Roman and Virgil seemed to share the same bright grin; Elliot only seemed to be confused.

Patton shrugged, running a hand over Roman’s thigh. “I thought it would be a nice surprise,” he said in a half-truth.

“Surprise? You mean ‘a nice not giving Logan enough time to clean.’”

“Babe, you’re still using the cane,” Roman said. “I’m banning my boyfriends from cleaning. If any of you breathe near a feather duster you’re getting punished.”

“Sounds kinky.”

“VIRGIL!” Roman yelled as Logan and Patton tried to hide their laughter.

“What?” Virgil asked with a laugh. “Are you going to punish me with Cinderella-style BDSM?”

 _“VIRGIL!”_ Roman yelled again, his face bright red with a blush.

“Virgil, please do not break our boyfriend,” Logan said with a laugh. For a quick moment, Virgil questioned his choice of words but when he saw Logan squeeze Patton’s hand so lovingly and comfortingly he went against asking. He had his answer.

“It’s getting late,” he said as he forced a yawn. “I should be getting to bed.”

“You don’t want to stick around a little longer?” Patton asked. His warm smile was sunshine and Virgil wanted nothing more than to bask in it all day. Roman’s eyes shined like the ocean he wanted to swim in. Logan’s arms were the home he wanted to return to. His heart aches and that /word/ echoed through his thoughts once again on loop. Soulmate. Soulmate. /Soulmates./ He took a deep breath and looked at their smiling faces and open arms one last time as a different word came to mind.

**Family.**

“I should really get going,” Virgil said. “Don’t want to be half asleep when Emile comes back.”

“Virgil, wait,” Roman said. “I lo-uh. I wanted to say goodnight.”

Virgil let out a small laugh as he headed to his room. “Goodnight, Nerd.”

**+++**

The last time Virgil had woken up this early was when he had gone to save Elliot, but he strangely didn’t care. He was wide awake and bouncing on the balls of his feet with every step as energy ran through his body.

He hopped into the shower, enjoying how hot the water was before anyone else got a chance to use it. He fished around in the cabinets, trying to find Logan’s hair gel, but accidentally stumbled upon Roman’s eyeshadow. He pulled out a brush and tried to apply some black eyeshadow.

“Shit,” he murmured as he accidentally smudged some under his eyes. He tried to wipe it away only to find the black pigment spreading. “C’est la fucking vie,” he whispered under his breath as he applied the eyeshadow completely under his eyes.

By the time he was completely dressed, everyone else had only begun to wake up. Everyone except for Logan, who was starting to make breakfast. “You look sharp,” he said with a smile, eyes scanning Virgil up and down. Virgil was wearing his father’s jacket with a ripped purple shirt and black skinny jeans with combat boots. Logan was still in pajamas and a bathrobe.

“So do you,” Virgil teased, “need some help?”

“That depends. Do you mind making me a cup of coffee?”

“Let me guess. No cream, two sugars?”

“Marry me,” Logan said under his breath as he flipped the scrambled eggs he was making.

“What was that?” Virgil asked, grabbing a coffee mug.

“I, uh, said that would be satisfactory, thank you, Virgil.”

Virgil smirked to himself, trying to hold back a laugh. “Sure thing, Pocket Protector.” He took a sip from the mug before handing it to Logan.

“Excuse you,” Logan laughed in feign offense.

“I had to check for poison.”

“Check the coffee _you made_ for poison?”

“Yep,” Virgil said, stealing another sip.

“You little thief,” he teased, pulling the cup away as Virgil reached out for it. They found themselves caught with Virgil pressed between Logan and the counter as their hips pressed together and their torsos fit together like puzzle pieces in an awkward curve. Virgil’s fingers brushed against Logan’s tattoo and as they made eye contact he could feel their noses brush together. For the first time, he realized how easily Logan could lean down and kiss him. And he _really_ wanted Logan to kiss him.

Both of them blushed for a moment, now fully aware of their proximity. Virgil slowly brought his hand back to his side of Logan stepped away. Logan’s wide eyes and the way his mouth hung the slightest bit open as his cheeks grew rosy silently answered all of Virgil’s unasked questions.

“Logan! There you are!” Patton said. Virgil quickly moved away from Logan, his face turning red as he wondered how long Patton had been watching. “I’ve been looking for you all morning!”

“My apologies, Darling,” Logan said. “I’ve been making breakfast.”

“Breakfast is my duty,” Patton said, shooing him out of the kitchen. “Now go get dressed. We have a big day ahead of us.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one getting all dressed up for Emile’s homecoming,” Virgil teased.

“Well,” Patton said, tying an apron around his neck and waist, “he’s very special to us. I’d like to make sure everything goes as perfectly as possible.”

“He’ll finally be back home,” Virgil replied, never once questioning if he and Patton had been talking about the same person.

After a few minutes, all four of them were chatting over breakfast. Elliot silently poured themself a cup of coffee and went back to the living room just as quickly as they had arrived. “He has the fob still, right?” Roman asked between bites of food.

“Don’t talk while you’re eating, it’s disgusting,” Logan said. “But yes, Emile is in possession of a- uh- _fob_ , as you so elegantly put it.”

“Listen, you can think I’m a dumbass all you want, Lo. But at the end of the day, you’re the dumbass who decided to date me.”

“Oh, please, I only have so many options.”

“Fine,” Roman said with a smirk, “date Virgil then.”

Roman and Patton exchanged a glance hidden behind sips of coffee as both Logan and Virgil blushed. The moment, however, was quickly interrupted by the sound of the hydraulic press lowering towards the ground. “HE’S HERE!” Virgil yelled, standing up from the table.

“Virgil, slowdown,” Roman said. Yet his words meant nothing as Virgil sped down the hall into the garage.

He stopped in his tracks as he saw them, all three of them. His heart was racing as tears began to well in his eyes. “Mom?”

“My son,” Nicole said with a smile, walking forward as Virgil ran into her arms. They held onto each other like a lifeline exchanging tears of overdue “I love you”s.

Patton stood in the background with Roman and Logan slowly joining him by his sides. They had their own greetings to exchange, but this moment was only for the Bianchi family and they had to respect that.

“You embellished your father’s jacket,” Nicole said, tracing her hands over the fabric.

“I hope you’re not mad,” Virgil quickly apologized. “I, uh, got the fabric from one of Logan’s old shirts.”

“Very resourceful,” she said with a laugh. Her hand cupped the side of Virgil’s face as she inspected every freckle she had missed. “You look so much like him, you know, your father when we first met. Oh, Virgil, how you’ve grown.”

“I’ve missed you, Mom.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she said, pulling him in for another hug. “Thank you, Mr. Hart. I could never have done this without you.”

“Patton?” Virgil asked. “You knew about this?”

“Family is family, Mrs. Bianchi.”

“ELLIOT!”

“KAI!”

The two friends ran towards each other, meeting in an embrace similar to the one shared between mother and son. “And, well,” Patton said, “family takes many forms.”

“Mom, I have so much to tell you,” Virgil said. “And, Emile, I’m so sorry. Remy, he gave up everything for me and that’s cost you so much. It’s all my fault, I’m so sorry.”

“Virgil, don’t say another word,” Emile said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re no more at fault than Elliot or Roman. The only person to blame is the guard that shot him. No one else.”

“Thanks, Emile. We’ve really missed you.”

“I’m glad to be back,” he said with a smile.

“OH! MOM!” Virgil bounces on the balls of his feet as he spoke. “I have to show you _everything!_ Okay, there’s an indoor gym and- and- Patton has an entire hospital wing! I’m not allowed in there though.”

“And probably for good reason,” Nicole said with a laugh.

“OH!” Virgil ran towards Logan and Roman.

“Has he ever been this excited?” Logan whispered under his breath.

“Not in a long, long time,” Patton murmured, smiling though his heart hurt.

“Logan’s the one who saved me,” Virgil said proudly, wrapping his arms around Logan’s shoulders. “He’s always been there for me.”

“I, uh, thank you, Virgil,” Logan said awkwardly. “Although, it’s not like you haven’t been there to support us.”

“Shush, you know what I mean,” Virgil said. Logan did not know what he meant. “And _this_ handsome devil,” he teased as he grabbed Roman’s arm, “is my dear friend Roman.”

“I see someone’s busy singing Logan’s high praises,” Roman teased.

“Oh shush.”

“It’s very nice to meet you both,” Nicole said as she shook their hands. “And it’s nice to see you again, Mr. Hart.”

“Oh, please, Mrs. Bianchi, you can call me Patton.”

Nicole smiled and took Patton’s hand. “With all due respect, Mr. Hart, I cannot do that.”

Patton laughed. “Fair enough. I hope you enjoy our humble abode.”

“This place is awesome,” Kai said. Their hand was interlocked tightly with Elliot’s. “Can I stay here forever?”

Roman laughed, light-hearted and full of pain. “You have a life to go back to, Kai. And with the police constantly on our asses, we can’t risk you staying here for more than a few hours.”

“But, Elliot-”

“Is leaving,” they whispered. “I have all my things packed already.” Kai buried his face in Elliot’s shoulder, mumbling something only they could hear. “We have each other right now,” they whispered comfortingly, “we’ll figure the next steps out later, but now we just have to… enjoy each other’s company while we still can.” They stood there in silence, pressed together by future goodbyes and longing.

“We should give them some space,” Virgil said, grabbing his mother’s hand and Patton’s and leading them back into the kitchen. He let go of one hand.

“I apologize for the clutter,” Logan said. “If _someone_ had told me we were having guests I would have cleaned.”

“No, he wouldn’t have. I banned him from cleaning.”

“Banning Logan from cleaning is like banning _you_ from Disney,” Patton said, earning a loud gasp from Roman.

Virgil shook his head with a smile, unable to help the small quirk of his lips. “Men, am I right?” he asked teasingly.

Nicole saw the light in her son’s eyes, unmistakable and bright. Her stomach twisted in knots. “Uh, yeah. Yeah.”

“Patton, we have a situation,” Emile said, his arms around Elliot and Kai.

“Oh, yeah?”

“These kids need ice cream stat!” he yelled with a laugh.   
Patton rolled his eyes. “We have some mint chip in the freezer, Doc.”

“Thanks, Nurse Pat,” he teased.

“Nurse,” Nicole repeated. “I didn’t know you went to medical school.”

“I, uh, didn’t,” Patton said with a laugh. “Hard to study when you’re on the run.”

“Has anyone here actually finished high school?” Virgil teased. “That’s Barren, anyway.”

“Logan did,” Roman said. “He has a bachelor’s degree.”

“That’s the least surprising thing you could say,” Virgil said. “Logan’s job is to be a nerd.”

“Hey!” Logan said with a pout.

“We still love you,” Virgil said with a smile, sticking his tongue out.

Roman laughed as Logan tried to hide a blush. “Our favorite poindexter,” he said, pressing a kiss to Logan’s cheek. Logan let out a whine of embarrassment and hid his face in Roman’s neck, muttering something as he did so. “You gotta speak up, Dear.”

“You guys are assholes.”

“Logan!” Patton gasped. “That’s rude!”

Virgil laughed, louder and more clearly than Nicole had ever heard him laugh before. She smiled, a bittersweet feeling tugging at her heart. She had come here to ask her son a question, but deep down she knew the answer was right in front of her.

The “tour” had lasted a few more hours. Eventually, all eight of them were crowded around a four-person table laughing over spaghetti and meatballs (with Elliot, of course, being an exception). Nicole wiped her face with a napkin and gently tapped her son’s knee. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” she asked. “Privately?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, following her into the garage. “What’s up?”

“I was talking to a great aunt of mine,” Nicole explained. “She lives in Italy, where the laws on Barrens are… a lot more _sympathetic._ She knows a man who can get both of us out of here, safely. We can start over.”

“Go to Italy?”

“It’s… it’s your _choice,_ Virgil,” she said. “You can either stay here-” she gestured to the kitchen- “with them. Or you can run away to Italy with me.”

“I- This is so sudden,” he said, trying desperately to fight the urge to look back at the kitchen- at everyone he’d be leaving behind. Could he leave behind Patton’s hugs? The late-night talks with Roman that always made him feel like _part of something?_ Could he be okay with never seeing Logan’s smile again?

Could he leave behind his family?

“Mom, I- I’m so glad to see you again. I’ve missed you so much and spent so many days wishing I could have said goodbye.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “But they’ve become my family just as much as you and Dad. I can’t leave them behind, I- I love them.”

Nicole sighed and forced a small grin as she put her hand against his cheek. “I know you do. And I’m… _happy_ for you. I hope they continue to make you happy.” Virgil smiled as another tear rolled down his cheek.

“Is it time to go?” Kai asked.

“Indeed it is.”

“But I- Elliot and I- I need more time!”

Elliot put their hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be gone in a few days anyway. But I want you to have this.” They took a faux leather bracelet off of their wrist and onto Kai’s. “So you’ll always remember me.”

Kai reached forward and pulled them into a hug. “I love you,” he said as tears welled in his eyes and began to fall onto Elliot’s clothes.

Elliot pulled him closer. “I love you too. I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll write to you. Everyday. Even if I can never send anything, I’ll never stop writing.”

Elliot pulled away from the hug but tenderly held onto his hand for a few more lingering moments. “One day, I’ll read them all.”

“Goodbye, Virgil.”

He smiled, blinking away the last of his tears as one final truth planted itself in the minds of Nicole and himself. He wasn’t a child in need of taking care of, not anymore. He was an adult, forced to grow up much too quickly but now capable of making his own choices and designing his fate.

“Bye, Mom.”


	18. Chapter 18

Virgil had been different, to say the least, after having been reunited with his mom. He seemed surer of himself. He stepped up more than usual with chores around the bunker, even offering to help Roman with the final paperwork after Elliot had left. In some ways, he was a lot more like Patton, in others, he seemed more like himself.

The guilt of eavesdropping had stayed in Roman’s gut bubbling and boiling and threatening to escape him at any moment. He watched and waited, wondering if Virgil could sense the fear coming from him. He wondered if Virgil could tell that his feelings were returned.

_He had been sitting at his desk for nine hours. Elliot was already gone but that only seemed to increase that amount of work he was stuck with. His back was stiff and he had a headache from staring at his computer screen in the dark room for so long. He wanted nothing more to lay in bed with his head on Patton’s chest while Logan played with his hair.  
_

_He relaxed back into his chair, eyes closed as the scene played out in his head. He thought of the warmth of being pressed between two bodies. Patton’s chest moving gently with each breath. Patton would likely be falling asleep as he always did when he was relaxed at Roman’s side. Logan, however, would be wide awake. He would stay focused, calculated as he massaged Roman’s scalp. Then his hand would move down to towards his neck and he would notice the knots and tension stuck in Roman’s muscles. Then Logan- Sweet, gentle Logan- would meticulously press his fingers into Roman’s skin, letting his boyfriend relax as his stress fades away._

_And then a new idea popped into his head._

_Perhaps Virgil is also there. He’s cuddled up against Patton with one hand on Roman’s cheek. He leans in ever closer and catches Roman’s lips in the gentlest of kisses. His hands are calloused and his lips are chapped but his movements are smooth and caring. He slips his tongue into Roman’s mouth and then-_

_There was a knock at the door, quickly pulling Roman from his thoughts. He turned back to his work and tried to calm his blushing face. “Come in!” he yelled weakly, but when he saw Virgil his blush only grew worse._

_“How are things?” Virgil asked. “You must be hungry.”_

_“I’ll eat when I’m finished,” he quickly dismissed. “Busy, busy, you know how things are.”_

_Virgil moved towards the desk, leaning over to read the computer screen. Half of his weight was pressing into Roman’s back and Roman forgot how to breathe when he felt Virgil’s hair tickling his neck. Right then and there he wanted to confess everything to Virgil and see if his imagination could compare to Virgil’s real kisses._

_“You seem to be at a good checkpoint,” Virgil said._

_“I really can’t-“_

_“And the lunch I made us is going to go cold.”_

_“I can’t- I- You made me lunch?”_

_“I made_ us _lunch,” Virgil said. “Patton told me if I made food for two you’d feel too guilty about making me eat alone to refuse.”_

Damn him, _Roman thought to himself. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to ask me on a date.”_

 _“If it gets you to stop working and actually_ eat _for a few hours, I’ll even wine and dine you,” Virgil said. He interlocked his and Roman’s fingers._

_Roman’s heart almost stopped beating._

Guilt ate him alive. “I think we should talk to him,” he said one morning, laid between Patton and Logan.

“Talk to him?” Logan asked. “You mean about… Oh.”

“What if we scare him off?” Patton asked.

 _But we won’t,_ Roman wanted to argue. _He loves us, he said it himself!_ He sighed as the monster in his stomach chewed on his heart. “Wouldn’t you rather be honest with him?”

“Do you have any sort of plan?” Logan asked.

“YES!” He yelled, sitting up so quickly that the bedsheets almost revealed his full state of undress. “We could make dinner fancy right, obviously we can’t go to a five-star restaurant so this is the second-best thing, get all dressed up and make the proposal while surrounded by roses and candlelight!”

“And why weren’t we this special?” Logan teased, pressing his chest against Roman’s bareback.

“One day, when we get out of this bunker, I swear to you I will take you to the fanciest restaurant available and wine and dine you both to your hearts’ content.”

“Aww, Roman,” Patton cooed.

“And then we’ll fuck.”

“Ever the romantic,” Logan teased.

“Fine, I’ll make _long and slow, six-hour sexual love to you while-”_

“If you don’t shut up right now, I’m breaking up with you.”

“Make me.”

Logan hummed, turning Roman’s head towards his. “Gladly,” he said, kissing him softly.

“How about I go into town, bring home some Chinese food and you two can get a movie night set up,” Patton suggested. “We’ll talk to him then.”

Roman smiled, his heart racing in his chest. “Sounds perfect.”

**+++**

When Roman had gone to retrieve his laptop, he found Virgil blocking the door into his office. “You’re not working today,” he said sternly.

“Is that so?” Roman laughed. “Move, I gotta get my laptop.”

“No,” he repeated. “I refuse to let you in there.”

“Virgil, this isn’t funny,” he said, laughing.

“I’ll fight you, Roman,” Virgil said. “I’ll kick your ass for your own good.”

Roman smiled and pressed a kiss to Virgil’s forehead, unfolding his arms. They swayed in silence for a few seconds, hearts beating nervously together as Roman smiled against Virgil’s hair. “Then kick my ass.”

“I- uh-“

“Too much of a coward?”

“No, I just don’t throw the first punch.”

Roman smirked, slowly moving one of his hands up, dragging his fingers across Virgil’s skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake. He kept his eyes on his hand and adored the way Virgil gasped when he caressed his neck. “So you want me to make the first move?” he flirted, growing ever cockier as Virgil’s eyes went wide. He nodded. Roman tilted Virgil’s head upwards and leaned down, moving as slowly as possible. He wanted to see the tension wreck the man in front of him; he wanted to make Virgil fall apart. Their foreheads pressed together and he could feel Virgil’s heart racing. Their noses brushed and he could feel Virgil’s breath against his mouth as his eyes fluttered closed. He smiled, brushing his thumb over Virgil’s eager lips. “Maybe later. I have work to do.”

As Roman left he smiled at the whine that escaped Virgil (and the embarrassing squeak that quickly followed). Out of his peripheral vision, he could see Virgil running towards his room.

“Oh, Roman,” Logan sighed, “what have you done to that poor boy?”

Roman smiled and leaned into his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I have a feeling he won’t say ‘no’ tonight.”

**+++**

They were booting up the second movie of the night whilst filling their mouths with rice and potstickers. The lights were low and all of them were covered in blankets. (They all sat a good distance away from each other in some attempt to not overwhelm Virgil.) They were watching some Netflix movie about soulmates who live halfway across the globe trying to find each other.

Logan groaned as he bit into a dumpling. “This is ridiculously heteronormative,” he complained.

“Aww, I think it’s cute!” Patton said, covering his mouth as he spoke.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he said. “You’ll choke.”

“Virgil, penny for your thoughts?” Roman asked with a smile.

“It does have its charm,” Virgil said slowly as if afraid one wrong word might break him, “but it does rely too heavily on the idea that the only compatible qualities they need are their genitals.”

And then Logan laughed. An explosion of pure joy and giggles he rarely let anyone see. It was magical. Roman and Patton glanced towards each other, looking between Virgil and Logan. Patton nodded.

“Virgil,” Roman said, moving towards him and gently pressing his hand against the other’s thigh. “There was something we wanted to talk to you about.”

“Is everything okay?” he asked, heart pounding in his chest.

“More than alright,” Patton said, snuggling up against Logan.

“I suppose this is something I really should have mentioned a while ago, but-“ He tried desperately not to break eye contact- “I overheard your conversation with Elliot. I didn’t hear much but… I heard enough.”

Tears pricked at Virgil’s eyes as his heart raced. He wanted to run away and cry, perhaps never be seen again, but Roman’s hand stayed heavily on his knee feeling like an anchor. “I- I’m so sorry- I- I didn’t-“

“Please don’t be sorry,” he whispered. “We’ve all talked many times about us, about our feelings, about _you.”_

“I- I don’t understand.”

“We love you, Virgil. We want to be with you.” Roman moved closer, his legs pressing into Virgil’s as he caressed his cheek the way he had earlier. “Can I kiss you?”

A stray tear fell from Virgil’s eye as his heart raced. He was horrifically aware of the fact that Logan and Patton were watching. Regardless, he nodded anyway. Over a year ago, Virgil wouldn’t have even expected to live long enough to have a first kiss, now he wasn’t even sure he was the same person.

Yet, the taste of Roman’s lips made all those thoughts blur into nothing but static.

Roman guided him through each tiny movement until he began to get the hang of it. Roman’s fingers moved through his hair while another hand was pressed against Virgil’s hip. Roman pulled away but stayed pressed against him. “So,” he asked lips ghosting over Virgil’s own, “what do you say?”

“Yes,” Virgil said quietly. He cleared his throat and spoke a bit louder, “I say yes.”

Patton let out a squeak of celebration as he continued holding onto Logan’s side. Roman glanced towards them with a smirk and elicited a small chuckle from Logan.

“I think you should sleep with us tonight.”

“Isn’t that a bit fast?”

Roman chuckled softly, pressing more pressure against Virgil’s hip. “Oh, Honey,” he purred into his ear, “we can go at any speed you like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't seen the tags on the Tumblr version you're missing out ;)
> 
> https://romansleftshoulderpad.tumblr.com/post/188928966481/barren-chapter-17


	19. Epilouge

It had been three years since Virgil’s arrest. He had met with his mom a few more times since getting together with the other three. It had been a year and a half since they left the bunker. Virgil eventually took her up on that offer of moving to Italy.

“Just because your _name_ is Cookie, does _not mean you can steal my desserts!”_ Patton yelled from the kitchen. Virgil laughed from where he sat at the dining room table.

“Oh! Is it time yet?” Logan asked, sitting down next to him.

“Yep,” Virgil said, logging into his Skype account. “I’m calling them right now.” Logan hummed, pressing a kiss to Virgil’s cheek. “What was that for?” He asked with a laugh.

Logan shrugged. “Just wanted to kiss my boyfriend.”

“Then kiss me properly,” Virgil teased, turning and laughing as they kissed, his thumb running across Logan’s cheek. Kissing was certainly a skill he had grown better at over the years.

“Eww,” Picani murmured from the computer screen. Virgil laughed as he pulled away, enjoying the red blush on Logan’s face. “Warn a therapist next time”

“Always a pleasure to see you, Logan,” Nicole laughed as she squeezed into frame. They were sitting in Picani’s office as they always did during these monthly calls.

“Likewise,” Logan murmured, still failing to hide his pink cheeks.

“COOKIE, NO!” Patton yelled followed by a loud crash. “OUT! SHOO!”

A golden lab ran into the dining room quickly followed by Patton in oven mitts and a pink apron. He stopped when he saw the camera. “Oh! Emile! Mrs. Bianchi! Hi!”

“Are you two ever going to address each other by name?” Roman asked as he managed to calm down Cookie.

Patton and Nicole laughed before replying in unison, “No.”

“Oh! I talked to Elliot the other day!” Picani said. “They’re settling in nicely!”

“Isn’t this a breach of Doctor/Patient confidentiality?”

“Pretty sure that was broken when Elliot started living with us,” Roman said.

“They got that nasty ex’s name off of their wrist,” Nicole said. “Honestly, the things they’ve told me about Mitchell? I want to kick his ass.”

“Mom,” Virgil laughed, shaking his head and false disappointment.

“They got a new tattoo!” Picani announced. “It says Kai.”

“Sounds gay to me,” Roman said, earning a gentle slap from Logan and Virgil. “Ow.”

“I’m sure they’re just friends,” Picani said. He traced his fingers over the faded name on his arms. “But it does remind me of someone.”

“Oh, Emile,” Nicole said softly, taking his hand. He could see a faded J on her arm.

Virgil glanced towards their fireplace. A wall of photographs surrounded it, but only one sat on the mantle. “We think of him every day.”

Picani wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “So do I.”

Cookie barked for attention and everyone laughed in a more light-hearted tone. “Did she get the bandana I sent her?” Nicole asked.

“You and Roman are spoiling her,” Virgil teased.

“Princess Cookie deserves the best!” Roman protested.

Virgil laughed, love and warmth bubbling in his chest. He was 21 and he finally had a family.


End file.
